The Boy Who Drank the Ocean Dry

So I've been pretty busy lately, which would account for my blogging absence... one of the reasons I've been busy is because I've been working on rewriting a short story I wrote nearly a year ago. One of my professors has been helping me edit it... anyways, read it and then tell me the good things and then the things that need improvement...

Here's a clip of the rewritten portion (this isn't the entire story):

The Boy Who Drank the Ocean Dry

      There once was a boy who drunk the ocean dry.
      It was perhaps the most foolish thing this boy could ever have done, for it never made sense. But he loved the ocean and with a passion too. A passion not too different from the way the stars are in love with the midnight. As it was with those diamonds of fire and their fancy to shine against a dark canvas of universe, so it was with this boy and the deeper blues of his Atlantic bride. He was enamored with the way she sang when those lunar tides crashed against the rocks on which his mother's home was built, and it was impossible to escape the way it greeted him in soft blues, quiet roses, and warm oranges as a glowing sun crawled over her and thawed the horizon every morning. "Mother, I love the ocean.” He told his mother. "Oh, my Son,” She said,  “What brings you to like it so much?" "Love Mother, not like...” The young boy firmly reminded his mother and then a maturing silence cast itself slowly across the room. He straightened up and time stood still. He had fallen in love with the ocean now and out of it he could not go.  His mother’s heart began to hurt for she knew that he was no longer a boy, but a young man, though at this time he had never known tears.