Of Berries and Trains
Remember the blackberries we picked
Down by the railway line in Blacky Woods?
The best ones always out of reach,
Dark, glossy and tempting.
Knee deep in brambles,
We'd scratch our hands to shreds,
Trying to possess them.
Remember that photo you took?
Me lying across the tracks
As if I needed rescuing.
But the bowlful of berries beside me
Gave the game away.
We'd cycle home,
Careful not to spill our glistening cargo
And present it to my mother.
Then we'd be off again scrumping apples.
Remember the pies she made
Topped with a dollop of clotted cream?
In those days when summer and childhood went on forever
We'd trespass on the Royal Albert Bridge,
Perilously close to the main line
And watch as the train slowed to a snail's pace,
Jam-packed with holiday-makers
As it snaked its way into Cornwall.
© 2015 Stella Kaye