Blueberries Poem by jamie newcomb

Blueberries

Rating: 4.5


I Love You On Monday, Darling,
And Picked Blueberries For You In My
Fathers Backyard

On Tuesday, I Paced The Burst Of Fruit
Inside A Wooden Box,
Wrapped It 'Round With A Purple Ribbon And
Wished Upon A Star

Wednesday, We Savored The Berries
Together On Your Shabby Back Porch,
Drank Ice Tea And Watched The Frogs
Hop-a-long Home

We Laughed All The Way To Thursday,
Dear,
You Never Looked More Lovely Than You
Did That Afternoon

I Love You On Friday, But a Storm Had
Rolled In,
The Rain Came Down Hard; Your Heart
Turned Stormy Too

By Saturday, The Fruit Was Rotting In The
Yard,
Sky Blue Juice Stains Had Washed From
Our Fingers

I Love You On Sunday, My Sweet,
But You Were Already Gone; Now I Pick
Blueberries Alone

And I Wonder If They Will Ever Taste The As Sweet

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Walterrean Salley 19 September 2014

I love blueberries, Monday-Sunday. And I love your sweet little poem; it makes me thin of that delightful fruit. Can't tell if your loved one passed away or what. But if the former is true, then, my condolences are to you.

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Julie Schleppegrell 21 January 2012

Awesome poem, and catchy title :)

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