Strawberries in my bones

Wild strawberries only four euro a barquette

My summers are faded and cracked
frivolous snatches from old films.

Strawberries ripening in the sun
gorging ourselves on heart-shaped flesh
till sweet perfume stained our lips.

Hot, tight cabins painted sea and clouds,
chasing sand between our toes
barely breathing, barely there.

I look over my shoulder to see you gone
no more summer in my bones.

The Isle de France with all the gulls around it

©Lipstickandmiracles 2016

In response to today’s Daily Prompt: Summer and written while listening to These Foolish Things



Author: lipstick&miracles

A poet-writer-dreamer who wants to share her collection of bright and quiet miracles strung together through travel, reading, writing, doodling and the rest of it. Shapes and words that make her heart skip a beat... and maybe yours too?

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