The Beach In Au­tumn

The People's Friend Special - - CONTENTS -

by Deb­o­rah Mercer

is a dif­fer­ent place to­day From where ex­cited chil­dren play With happy squeals and fran­tic fun As sleepy par­ents catch the sun.

No sand­cas­tles on the beach; No ice-cream sellers within reach; No pa­tient don­keys plod their way. It is a dif­fer­ent place to­day.

Not quite de­serted – I can see A lone dog walker, far from me, Man and dog shad­owed in grey. It is a dif­fer­ent place to­day.

But it’s not silent. Break­ers roar As they roll up on the shore And then re­treat, far, far away. It is a dif­fer­ent place to­day.

Or is it? No. I only see And hear this scene, this sym­phony, Be­cause the crowds have gone away. It is the same place ev­ery day!

The time will pass, the sea­sons turn; The sum­mer throngs and noise re­turn. But, loud or soft or gold or grey, Night falls. Dawn breaks. Another day.

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