My faded favorite socks

She warned me hard water would fade my favorite socks
only a seme woman can care to such an extent

I soaked and washed then hung them to dry
Forgot the sun and left them for the moon

The next day it rained and they were damp again
redeemed them in the afternoon with dust and shame

The wind from the lake blew one away
Now am left with one my needs are done

A faded left sock has little use this June
a pack of three for the first to breathe

The first to be born will seal the bond
a pure blood genius, a city overseas

I underestimated hard water 
when it comes to fading socks

She did warn me, that seme woman,
her disposable wisdom now recycled, 

in froth.

* * * 
Sindo beach, Mbita
20th Feb 2018