When day is spent and night air comes
I know summer’s hold is lost
and autumn’s magic turns
green leaves golden, signalling
a season of change is coming,
so I better start to prepare
cause winter’s grip can be cold.
I take my thoughts to heart, walking,
mussing on life’s twists and turns.
I sense my concerns will
make an emotional impact,
so I evaluate; careful not to react
asking for peace to let the past depart
and the ‘now’ to give me it’s best
I lay stretched out on the beach
as full moon and stars brightly shine
like an out stretched hand to reach.
I turn my gaze to address your moon-
face and shout aloud my boon
flinging my words out, as if to mars
while relief trembles in my speech
The air is cold, I slowly walk the beach;
shouting my thoughts for ocean waves
to catch them in their magic roar
this cry of troubled heart.
Prayers afloat upon Pacific’s spray
I drop them, with a lament
“ride the surf to the end” my yachts
I’m a fellow being who trust ‘time’
will mend a broken heart.
Hope knows the wintry grip can be cold
but spring will soon spin its magic trick.
I turn, to search the beach, to know I am
making my speech of emotions,
to the roar of ocean blend
and notice your moon face wink back
on this lonely New Zealand beach
by Stephen Douglas
©stephen c douglas, 11/04/09 & 04/06/20