I wrote in a post earlier this week, that I had an opening line for a poem that I had used badly in the past. I think this will suit it much better; and that, I can call this one done.

The fire on a moonlit night,
sang out to the open sea
For where or not, at all is known
none but you and me.
The fire on a moonlit night,
sang out to the open sea
This day of clouds, white and gray
for none at all but me.