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