If you find her in your grasp hold onto her, and
Until your limbs are weary from wonder.
And, when she find someone else to become fond upon,
kiss the mist on your steamed up windows.
For rain will often pour, and often pass.
Thank the wind for each moment that she made last.
An extract from ‘Synonymous Sister’, written February, 2017.
Art work by Beth Clarke.
©️ Imogen H-C.