strawberry memories

The tiny patch of berries

Was tucked in between two rows of roses

We must take care not to prick ourselves

As we gathered the red and glowing fruit

We took them into the kitchen

And washed and laid on white towels

They looked like a pattern

On a pretty lady’s dress

In the height of summer


I have no idea where those are now

Then held the radiant fruit

As a drop of saliva formed

At the corner of my mouth

A slight sprinkle of sugar atop

Made them just perfect

Although now I think they are perfect

On their own

Gazing out that picture window

Letting that fruit roll about the tip of my tongue

Then biting into it with a gush

Made the perfect morning

On a gorgeous day

And a big smile for the woman

Who made it all happen

From the garden

To my own little mouth.


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