Water Street

The lady with the spear
Rests on her dome
Of concrete and stone

Tarmac and the Cigar shop
Do moral battle with customs in India
As nightfall creeps and envelopes New Zealand house
Where the photogenic swagger in

Signs say ‘Give Way’
or point to the left
Towering tower blocks impose
Reminding me of
My lonely insignificance in death

Above the rippling reflection
An August moon glimmers warmly
While the street calms and stills

By Chris Carnauba