What does this word mean to me?
It starts from long ago,
A different dimension
I question, ‘did it exist?’
The era of no mobile phones
Permed hair dos, ‘what was I thinking-and those glasses, yuk!’
‘Aha - Take on me-a reminder
A child of thirteen
Having older sisters had its downside.
They played mean
Giving me milk to drink,
And taking pride,
Then jumping on my stomach
as my back sinks
into the cold soil and the
Freshly mowed grass.
Then the scientific results -
They pass.
Milk trickles down my nostrils.
They laughed hysterically
And I sighed.
Then being tagged along with them and their boyfriends
Because they were told to look after me.
Gooseberry.
We used to go gooseberry picking with our parents
Yet this was ordered, no running, skipping or general play
My parents later split.
When we got home though, Mum made this into gooseberry pie,
I already taste the warm, juicy sweetness on the inside
With a crunch on the outside.
Drizzled with hot, sweet creamy custard poured on top.
Even then, being inside trapped my spirits,
Especially on a warm sunny day.
The woods were calling me
Exploring alone,
Finding alone,
Gooseberries
But then feeling the tummy ache.
Remember that Mum said to wash them first!
Not everything in life comes with a clean conscience
Choose carefully
If only i listened then,
what heartache would I save myself.
Yet those joys of being thirteen,
Then climbing trees,
Feeling proud as the sun shadows the path with branches.
Life filled my soul to perfection.
Innocence.
A glimpse of God where the sun echoed,
In spring
amongst the sounds of children playing in the woods,
Never growing weary
Keeping faith - my heart
Though it hurt
Now tasting the fruit
Poem