Down the path, and through the dunes of sea-grass and growth, past the foxes and crickets and gulls, down to the black beach, down to the Sea. The Moon lights the way, and ghosts are your guide On the quiet path to the Sea. Sand is cool, but the night is warm and alone you see the world in motion, Moon reflecting every motion, Every sound disappearing, caught by ghosts in the summer night, warm breeze lifts you as waves break in the summer night and the sea-grass sways with the wind beneath the stars and the salt-air Crying to the Sea in the summer night Where tears are lost, and ghosts
Are everywhere.
Original Poetry 