The moon has lost her other half in blue. Perhaps some playful wave slipped its leash, and broke over this quaint brooch, this flex of quartz, and on next tide, some far galaxy will be beached by her smile.
The prompt tonight (at NaPoWriMo.net) was to write a Nonet. A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable.