Strawberries Ochre Poem by James McLain

It remembers two!
When it's eyes first opened.
It remembers your first cave,
your print it hung upon the wall, in red ochre,
simply no time then to blink in pinks.
The children were always hungry, with upside
down smiles, waiting as they do now for right side ups.
It is yours gathered waves momentum, when
all the bed was one, still hooked not spread.
The bed of roses always spread, always open, ran
far and wide, always milling spreading germs of life.
Open patches, became lush gardens, always filled in
play.
Ponds grew in to oceans, wild fresh streams filled with
salmon, always pink so much better bathed in smoke,
as times loving embrace to tide it over,
while it walked on water spreading foam, your daughter.
Still on cold nights you make it warm with your smile,
it feeds you that very first strawberry always fresh,
vere blurried in all your last abandoned flurries, flowing ochre.