Confessions at the Margin

The moon opens a tavern of light on the river,
selling confessions to the banks of the estuary.
The water, shining cashier, records secrets
and receives them with a caress of foam.
The waves carry the words never spoken
beyond the gorge of the shore, where the world remains.
Every word becomes salt on the lips of night,
and returns to knock upon the heart of the rocks.
When dawn breaks the last shadow, the counter falls silent.
The estuary holds the breath of unspoken promises.
The moon departs, but the sea keeps the rest,
a memory that pulses in the rhythm of the waves.