..and often down by the river Lune when I'd bunked off from school and the day passed too soon
I'd hide in the reeds and watch the moon as it rose above
the priory,
why me?
but it was me angling down to the sea marking my route like an old ship when passing the quay,
seeing the stars which looked different every time they shone
and now the memory dissipates and it's gone.

the trick in cherry-picking is to pick the ripe ones, the sweet ones because the taste lasts much longer.