It's not snowy outside my window right now, but it sure is frosty, and I hate the cold. I miss summer. Thinking about summer makes me very, very happy, and thinking about pleasant childhood summers makes me even happier. Plus, it's a poem about food. Who doesn't love that??
"Strawberry Summer"
Strawberries taste like
Childhood summers:
Grown in a small garden
Next to a little shed
Picked by still growing hands
Washed in a tiny kitchen
And devoured
Purely.
Not chocolate covered
Whipped cream topped
Or sugar coated
The only garnish
Was the juice
Dribbling down
A smiling chin
And wiped
Across cherub cheeks
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