The Puppet Master

Waves crash against the sea rocks,
Barnacle covered boulders lapped by the water.
Their surfaces worn smooth,
From the years of the sea carving them away. 
In out and out the sea goes, in and out.  


In the night hours, the moon looks down upon the sea,
Her subject.
Her bright reflection ripples through the darkness.
Her beams pierce through the water, 
Lending her night time glow to the creatures of the deep. 

All through the night she pulls,
Pulls the sea.
Like strings on a puppet,
She pulls,
And eventually,
Lets go. 

The waves get smaller, 
And bigger once more. 
She makes the sea sway.
She makes the sea Crash. 
Without her,
It would only stand still.