Wild Berries Poem by Deva De Silva

I remember...
Wild berries plucked
During afternoon strolls
Tiring hours spent on
Gathering them up
In your frilled dress
Till you empty them:
All trees and tiny fruits they bore

Monkeying though branches
Grazing your skin
On coarse tree barks
On dead spiky twigs
Yet, gleaming proudly
You marched up to me
To spread them before me
To take my pick of the harvest!

White tetron-cotton dress
With its three box pleats
Arranged precisely and neatly
On the bed in unision
Smoothing out its creases
Gently, and painstakingly
You ironed my school uniforms
In the mornings

When father disciplined me
As you perceived,
Unjustly and harshly
You cried in my place
Shedding blatant tears
Standing up for my ideals
In some instances even
Taking blame for my wrongs
I remember...