Strawberry Moon

Write about a sweetness you remember by its stain.

The sweetness left, but not too soon,

it lingers in the strawberry moon.

A blush of red, a faded hue,

a stain of all I thought I knew.

I cannot taste those days again,

but still they bloom beneath my skin—

like berry marks that won’t wash clean,

like summer lost, but softly seen.

steady meadow
2d ago