An anemone ensconced beneath the sea

Was lonely so he split himself in two,

Beside his mate the twain would wave in glee

Yet ‘twixt them both, the distance slowly grew.

While happy arms still waved in sweet delight

Those touching hands now gently slipped apart

And what was one now seemed but two in plight

As each from each obeyed a separate heart.

Yet as they moved they flailed in happy dance

Signaling love—or some last sad farewell

And whether theirs remained a strained romance

Or briny hate, no one could ever tell.

One question lingered still upon the seas—

Were they still friends, or rank anemones?