Strawberry Season
Winter gives more than chill;
come his death every year,
resolves his guilt with some goodwill.
Gifting a treat to be reaped, rewarding
those who knew where to sow,
before the snow first fell.
Tips of bright crimson
cut by a deep shade of maroon
mired in pale white,
fistfuls of red rubies dotting
a faded field of spruce green.
Like jealous eyes crying bloody tears.
A dying Christmas canon.
The first Strawberry bushes
fleecing the melting frost.
Our swan song to the doomed season.
We spared none.
None but the sickly sweet scent
that stuck to the curtains
and hung in the air.
An awkward aroma now.
She left nothing.
Nothing but the pink prints,
stained on the paper plates
where the berries once sat.
Shaped like little lipstick-laced kisses,
on a old-timey handkerchief.
Thrown out of the moving ship,
carried by blue winds whispering blame,
landing in the hands of the abandoned.
About this poem
I don't even like Strawberries that much, now a little less. When I first got to Michigan to study, we got to try these really lovely local Strawberries that were in season. But of course, I had no plates yet. I remember going to throw them away but paused as I saw these perfectly oval stains with a split in the middle. It made me reconsider those flimsy plates, and other things in my life. This memory helped me write this poem.
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Written on July 11, 2023
Submitted by Jewoo525 on July 10, 2023
- 55 sec read
- 87 Views
Quick analysis:
| Scheme | AXABCX DXXBXX DEXD DXXXC BXXX EXXXX |
|---|---|
| Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
| Characters | 910 |
| Words | 186 |
| Stanzas | 6 |
| Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 4, 5, 4, 5 |
10 fans
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"Strawberry Season" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/166158/strawberry-season>.
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