There were never strawberries <br />like the ones we had <br />that sultry afternoon <br />sitting on the step <br />of the open french window <br />facing each other <br />your knees held in mine <br />the blue plates in our laps <br />the strawberries glistening <br />in the hot sunlight <br />we dipped them in sugar <br />looking at each other <br />not hurrying the feast <br />for one to come <br />the empty plates <br />laid on the stone together <br />with the two forks crossed <br />and I bent towards you <br />sweet in that air <br />in my arms <br />abandoned like a child <br />from your eager mouth <br />the taste of strawberries <br />in my memory <br />lean back again <br />let me love you <br /> <br />let the sun beat <br />on our forgetfulness <br />one hour of all <br />the heat intense <br />and summer lightning <br />on the Kilpatrick hills <br /> <br />let the storm wash the plates<br /><br />Edwin Morgan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strawberries-7/
