Strawberries


My family used to own many half wine barrels
One of the perks of working at a winery
In these we would plant gardens
And located in the back corner
Underneath a gigantic tree
There was a barrel filled with strawberry plants
That would replant themselves every year
Tiny as the strawberries were
We would go outside and pick them every day
And usually come away with at least two,
Which we would split into halves
the size of a blueberry
And enjoy the sweet taste.

Eventually the strawberries ran out,
After many years of replanting themselves,
And we neglected to ever plant them again.
What I remember from this time,
Is my father and I planting and growing,
And this being normal, almost unappreciated,
And this makes me sad,
Because we can no longer plant any more strawberries
My dad cannot walk so well
And the barrels have been removed from our yard.

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