When I see the mulberries now
The first thought that comes to mind
Is not the taste,
So sweet on my tongue,
But the image of that day,
Long ago
When we sat in the sun
At the top of the hill
Lips stained purple
And pledged a vow
of eternal friendship
That we never kept.

©Anneshiningstar2020

...

I was determined to write more poetry with a rhyme scheme this year, but this week I felt more inspired to write this short free verse poem. As an exercise though I took the same idea and  turned it into a rhyming poem. I think I still prefer the free verse, but here it is:

We would slip down unseen at the end of the day
To the bottom of the hill,
On the field where the mulberry tree lay,
Hoping that the berries were not green still.

Hidden from the eyes of gawking school children,
We picked berries in the sun and ate our fill;
Sharing secrets in our own private kingdom,
While crafty time made us think he stood still.

I think this version is a bit more derivative. It's inspired partly by Seamus Heaney's Blackberry picking
And  Dylan Thomas' Fern Hill, though I don't think the resemblance is too obvious.

30/01/20