Jennie G.

Summer Strawberries

It is the break of dawn.
After tossing and turning all night,
I could not stay in bed any longer.

I stretch my arms up to the sky
and roll lazily out of bed.
I come downstairs
To feel the sensation of summer air.

As I am about to open the door to leave,
I see you standing there
With your back towards me.
I come closer.
You turn around and smile as you pass me a fresh strawberry.

“I picked these this morning.
Can you help me wash the rest of them?” you ask.
As we stand there, I pass you a rinsed strawberry.
One by one you tell me your stories of strawberry picking.
We have never talked like this.
I ask, “Grandpa, can I come?”

But that was then.
Today everyone stands around you
Mourning and wearing black clothing.
Tears stream down their faces
I look at you and I cannot cry.
Instead, I look down thinking of that one moment
Wishing it had lasted longer.


Copyright © 2002-2010 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose © 2002-2010 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission.