Moonbeam, You Accept Morse Code?

“Moonbeam,” IM overjoyed you choose to see through my inconsistency and tendency to flee the scene with my tail between my legs! IM listening to some music while drafting you sweet poetry this morning. I hope you like [it|. Blaming my reluctance to peak on my unsettled nerves makes little sense. IM simply choosing to stay lab-contained and chopping up every bit of output to see if arranging it in different arrays causes you to smile through the clouds. Is wordplay ok? Is it misplaced hope keeping the mountaintops of my EKG readings high? Is your ear pinned to the floor seeing if you can hear my gait learning to cope with continually progressing frames? I wish I knew how to, or felt comfortable filling your text bubble back with assurance enough to warm up the cold arm hairs snapping back the black night outside campfire site within sight.