The illusion is shifting again
The columns melting stone to blurred sand
Kiss the River bed, saturated nutrient flow
Estuary, opposites mixing like friends

Meeting our ends, meeting our ends
The Compost heap rots and withers,
In preparation to add to the cycle again
The moment is fleeting
Gather, pull the light close to your Chin
Hold it on the sides of its head
And gaze, gaze deeper and deeper again

The air is slow and still
faint puttering of the last barge
shunting coal downstream

city on the edge of sleep, settles
city on the edge of night, darkens

stretched steel and stone relax
cooling to a grey relief

reeds and sedges ripple
under bridges
and on the edges of the river

city in the gaze of moonlight, sighs
city in the haze of moonlight, slips

in the steady wash of tidal waters
and the brackish water of the estuary
come the bodies from the shore.


© M.L. Emmett

A perfect love would be
An estuary...

People say if its meant to be
Then it will be

People also said that there's fresh and salty
Different waters... Different flows... Different tides

I want a love like an estuary
For you and me
A place where that river can kiss the sea
It doesn't matter whether fresh or salty
Whatever race, religion or country
If its real love, then it's meant to be
Traveling far and wide
In order to unite in one tide
Yes, most definitely!
I desire a love like an estuary.