I wrote this poem thinking about our lifelong friend – water.
I thought about a river having emotions and feelings about the time of day.
Silly I know, but what if it loved the cool, dark nights.
What if the water in the river hated the hot sunny days and made it feel lazy.
Eventually, the poem describes the water meeting the sea.
It ends with a relaxed river looking forward to the next night.
What if water has memory and the memories of all civilisations and ages.
And it could both weep and rejoice on our follies?