She was the moon, and he was the water.

Every night, he would anticipate her appearance over the horizon. When she came into view, he would move and swell to mirror the dance she did across the sky. Ripples like hands would reach for her and fall back in time to some celestial music that he could not hear but felt in every drop. When he would calm long enough to really look at her, he saw the dreams of raindrops in her every twist and step.

Every night, she would choose the one path that would take her above him. As she danced, she could feel his movement in time with her own. She pulled at him with a beautiful violence, as if trying to rip him from the Earth to partner her across the sky. When she would pause long enough to really look at him, she saw a sparkling reflection of herself made even more lovely by his longing, a sonnet written in waves.

She was the moon, and he was the water.