I think of you
when I sit on the banks of rivers
and throw sticks
and large leaves (sometimes
small branches) into their currents
this isn’t a metaphor…
I don’t see you as a river or anything
you’re not a current and I’m not a twig
or vice versa
sometimes I just think of you, is all.
For more of Sapote Hudd’s poetry pick up a copy of Vol. I here.