Before he died
he asked for a bowl of strawberries.
He knew he should not have them
But he said
"What the heck -
Death is coming no matter what
I eat."
So I went down by the woods
at the edge of our property -
just where the sun
touches the fallen pine cones and
the soft breezes bend the tall grasses before dusk.
No bucket - so in
my crisp, white cotton apron
I carried as many strawberries
as I could pick.
My hands were stained red-
my mouth too.
I ate almost as many as I carried.
I returned to the house,
dumped them unceremoniously into the
kitchen sink to wash.
He said,
"Did you get 'em?"
In response, I brought him a
large bowl filled to the overflowing.
And so before he died,
we ate those strawberries,
slowly through one silent hour.
When months later, he was gone-
I thought-
Everybody should have a
strawberry day before they must
leave this world.
###
By Pamela Tyree Griffin
Previously Published by the lovely O Sweet Flowery Roses
