Take me to a place where the lower moon is wet in the ocean,

Where its sparkles are scattered in the quiet waves.

And we will go there in a boat, just you and me with the placid wind.

I will take a piece of the moon, brittle and soft, and hot like the ice.

And some small pieces to leave a trail behind.

The one I keep, will be safe in a silk pocket as a taken of our memories ‘there’.

'There’, where it was just us, no words, no feelings, no touch,

Just our boundless spirits in their purity.

We in the world, and the world in us, in momentary eternity.

The silhouette of an elderly tree protecting us in its branches.

Oh! but I could see a lost bird coming back to its home in the tree.

And to our nests we should hurry, as the wind has become rough and waves in fury.

With the edged, broken moon we cut our boat,

Bid glances and rowed away, but the moon, it stayed,

For when it's whole and the wind is plain, we will be 'there' again.