Then
The
Memory
Lingers
Of
Stained
Lips
And
Fingers,
Eating
Wild
Blackberries
Along
A
Country
Road,
Near
The
Farmhouse
We
Shared,
When
We
Both
Cared.
I now
Wash
Berries
From
The
Store,
And
My
Hands
Stay
Clean.
That
Rural
Lane
May
Still
Be
Freshly
Green,
And
Perhaps
Those
Canes
Yet
Remain,
Heavy
With
Fruit
Among
The
Tall
Grass,
To
Nourish
Lovers
As
They
Pass.
The
Memory
Lingers
Of
Stained
Lips
And
Fingers,
Eating
Wild
Blackberries
Along
A
Country
Road,
Near
The
Farmhouse
We
Shared,
When
We
Both
Cared.
I now
Wash
Berries
From
The
Store,
And
My
Hands
Stay
Clean.
That
Rural
Lane
May
Still
Be
Freshly
Green,
And
Perhaps
Those
Canes
Yet
Remain,
Heavy
With
Fruit
Among
The
Tall
Grass,
To
Nourish
Lovers
As
They
Pass.
RSS Feed