You told me:
There was an old monster
Who ceaselessly ate the sun, drank the sea.
He used to sigh: I'm weary of eating and drinking
But I am afraid that tomorrow
There will be no sun to eat, no sea to drink.
Mother, I never liked your stories.
Now I know that their truth had no heart.

Background: the few stories my mother told me were so didactic- I didn't like them. Based on a story of K.Gibran.