I want to pick blueberries with my mom again
Sunlight warming my cheeks
Her gentle hands touching me
Tasting the sweetness of both the fruit and her words
Our harvest being placed on the kitchen counter
Leaving splotches of purple sugary goo on the white counter
Smelling like leaves and fruit
We cook the plentiful berries down
Bubbling, boiling, blistering the blueberries
Pouring the hot sappy mixture into pie
She tells me every detail
Explaining how my husband will love it
I know however
When the time comes
It will not be perfected for my husband
But for the women I owe my womanhood to.
Posted in response to the challenge Hygge.
Comments
Powerful and heartwarming! This is a beautiful poem in its own right, for its vivid descriptions and the emotional bond being developed, but to then see this special relationship between mother and daughter so strengthened in the last lines really takes it to another level. I admire what you've done here!
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