"Ever wonder," said the tide, as the shadows danced upon the shore, "why the moon keeps our secrets more than the ocean ever does?" She gently splashed, almost conspiratorial.
"It's because," the moon whispered, "the illumination I cast is but a reflection, not unlike the ones we lose at dawn." This was scripted, like so many tales told under stars that have seen better nights.
As they drifted into the plastic horizon, the whispered secrets of the sea reeled back into the deep, leaving echoes of forgotten laughter. "We ought to write this down," said the sun, shedding its soft dusk.