In ageless deep, two bobbers we remain,
Our arms aloft to pluck the fruit high-hung.
The juice we squeeze, ’tis dry yet glows like fire,
In rosy hue of nuclear ire we’re clung.

Our trunks beclad in crystal’s gleaming crust,
The frothy surge wraps ’round us swift nay sweet
By tempests gallant, earnest prayers we make
In twilight’s hum, aglow with lightning’s touch.

With timid turns, ’til morrow we do tilt,
Our dance twixt mermaids, in revelation’s pool.