Photo by Katherine Chase on Unsplash

As each of these berries fall so softly
into my hand.
as stains deep purple soak into my skin,
I think of you.
How much you loved berry picking,
and how your hands would show these
stains, and because you did not guard
against those thorns,
they would bleed from myriad small
scratches, to mingle red with the
purple,
and your smile in a sunburned face
would tell me
everything was good
for that moment.