I often write things

that I fear are not worth reading

So, I tuck them neatly away

Fragile thoughts folded in upon themselves

The words fade and the pages yellow

As a memory floats into view


…of being ten years old

picking blackberries

in a blazing Texas summer sun

no clouds, no shade, no wind

while my cheeks burn red

my pail remains nearly empty

as i search endlessly

hand to mouth

for the One…

you know which I mean

the One that brightens your lips

in a triumphant juicy smile

of sweet buried treasure

once lost

now found

I eat far more than I put in my pail

it remains nearly empty

so tomorrow

there will be no cobbler

or biscuit jam


there will be no need of dinner

or dessert

only a cool bath gently run

to soothe my fiery skin

the search was everything

it filled me and fed me

left me weary

in the nicest of ways

sleep will surely come

claiming me for its restful own…


Tucked away somewhere

Are some yellowed pages bearing faded words

That I should wander through

It is time

To take them out of hiding

Unfold them

And see if anything has ripened

Sweet enough

To fill a nearly empty pail


In the morning

We shall have biscuits with blackberry jam

And in the evening

Warm cobbler with cold ice cream

And after that,

When the stars come forth to shine

And the fireflies begin their nightly tango

We shall sleep the weary peaceful sleep

Of being ten years old

At the end of a perfect summerโ€™s day


ellie894 June 4, 2019

64 thoughts on “tucked away…

      1. Picking berries in woods is very therapeutic, Suzanne. The soul-comforting feeling is perfectly reflected in your beautiful writing.

        The berry season hasnโ€™t reached us yet, it comes in July and sometimes lasts until the middle of August. We take the kids to woods and pick blue berries in summer. We have some raspberry bushes in the garden. Iโ€™ll send you a few pictures when the time has come. Take care ๐Ÿ˜Šโค๏ธ

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I so look forward to the photos. What a beautiful time with the children. How lovely to have delicate raspberries in your garden. I absolutely love blueberries.

        Your beautiful thoughts touch my heart Isabelle. Happy you found comfort in it. Thank you dearly. Take care โ˜บ๏ธโค๏ธ

        Liked by 1 person

    1. With warmest thanks vhealing for your beautiful thoughts ๐ŸŒท

      My site is named for my sweet rescue pup miss ellie. Please feel free to call me suzanne if you like. But ellie is just right too ๐Ÿ˜Š

      Those berries that are just right…โค๏ธ

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Your beautiful encouragement and thank you is far more than adequate! Itโ€™s warm and generous and Iโ€™m so very grateful for it! Thank you! ๐Ÿ˜Š


  1. I loved this! Your poem stirred up my own memories under a hot Arkansas sun, picking blackberries with my brother and sister…and of course, eating more than I put in the pail. ๐Ÿ™‚โ™ฅ๏ธ

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I used to have a great big bear of a rescue dog who would pick his own blackberries. But he never learned to make cobbler. ๐Ÿ™ƒ. Anytime is good for a visit over cobbler and ice cream! Thank you! ๐Ÿ˜Š


  2. Fab, Ellie. And man, you have rasps already? I have a million blackberry bushes, 5 damson trees, a whole bunch of gooseberry bushes and at least 5 raspberry bushes in my garden, and nothing’s ready to eat yet, haha.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Your lovely thoughts touch my heart. Iโ€™m happy to know they landed softly. Thank you very kindly Katy. Youโ€™re dear and talented. Hugs received and returned!!! ๐Ÿค—๐Ÿ’•๐ŸŒท

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Every time I try to write about my childhood, I can never get the right “noumenon” that accurately leers into the sharpness of my memorial lucidity; you see? Those words, pictures, sensations, that swing vividly, like a child does unto a tree. I grew up as you have, by the blackberries, by junipers, by nettles, by small streams with lichen rolled with sticks and laden with tadpoles, but I cannot spin that into verse, I can not replicate that poetry, because I do not recall it in this language, but my own.
    Yet you, you’ve given me a veritable taste of such distant innocence, intangible yet piercing, terribly further-out and so lovingly close. I’d really like to see you published one day, and hold such book, call it mine, mine and your own.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. When I read your verse and your thoughts such as these it makes me wish that I could read Portuguese. But, I cannot imagine that it would be any more beautiful than your English. Childhood moments in places such as these rather linger and live forever, donโ€™t they. Itโ€™s a beautiful thing to live them and then many times over to recall and share them. My heart is touched by your lovely thoughts Johnny, thank you so very dearly. What a dream a book would be, perhaps one day… โ˜บ๏ธโค๏ธ


    1. Thank you kindly! Iโ€™m so happy it could bring you happy memories. Your pie sounds scrumptious ๐Ÿ˜Š. Happy Berry moments just keep on and on, there is no end to them. Take care ๐ŸŒท

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s