The moon calls the pristine sea-water,
Which in turn, reaches to the sky to answer.
The wind sings of this sultry exchange,
While the poor rocks,
Constantly thrashed by the falling tides,
Can only silently sigh.
– Maya Desdemona
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Luminousis 
Those rocks are an unfortunate third wheel, my dear readers… It was certainly a humourous exchange to see. What do you think? Do those rocks require some poetic salvation, with a match of its own? (Mostly to write off the awkwardness.)
-Maya 🙂
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