She Runs with Silver Hair – A Poetry Journey with the River Mersey

She runs with silver hair and muddy feet,
Divider of cities never to meet.
Born out of rainy hills in distant moors,
Cutting through stone valleys like open doors.

A border for Saxon and men of Norse,
Providing protection from opposing force.
Timeless in nature, steady in presence,
Both love and anger are her essence.

Used and discarded by those hands unkind,
Yet her heart was love, she is never blind.
She hugged those mills and smoke-filled skies,
Ships leaving in the night, lovers’ goodbyes.

Her voice is Gull-song and dockland slang,
In echoes of shipwrecks and bells that rang.
Our timeless mother with an outstretched hand,
She laughs with sailors and loves bold rock bands.

She has tasted blood and speaks of the dead,
Days long past, our history in her bed.
She is mother, mourner, witness and thief,
She holds our sorrow; she tastes our grief.

Mother Mersey, you are ancient and strong,
Imbued with history, your path is long.
You do not rest, your influence is wide,
Mother Mersey, our goddess of the tide.

end.

I hope you enjoyed this poem and i would love to hear what you think below in the comments.