~ Hove Beach ~

 Talk not of lost futures past,

Breathe together the twilight air,

Water laps upon the silver shore,

Scattered shingle, shells all surround,

As Canute sitting before the tide,

We see nature has its own side,

Winter cold winds whispers new spring,

The sun lies low, preparing for bed,

Quiet contemplation, peaceful meditation

Clouds in slow squadron formation,

Soon the sun & we must take our leave,

And give way for the Moon, & his stars,

A single sunset shell is gathered to hand,

That evening between sea & firm land