the raspberry tasted of youth.
‘how truly simple
this is’,
i thought, as i waited for
the coffee to brew.
it is raining today,
a cold rain,
a december rain.
it is only a few weeks away
from the solstice.
the days move so swiftly,
chasing something with such haste.
as i stood watching the rain
and eating the raspberries
that tasted of youth,
i tried to understand
this movement of time;
this day that runs ferociously
to some unseen end.
it was never like this
in my youth;
time moved with a gentleness.
i’d stand amongst the raspberries,
free from care,
only being mindful of their tiny thorns,
and eat, and eat, and eat.
i began to understand,
breaking myself away from reverie
and pouring my coffee,
that the raspberry patch was
my kingdom,
i felt safe there
tucked amongst the tangled bramble
and the thorns.
the world outside
was one of turmoil;
it held a man of such fierceness
that a few scratches
from the inside of my kingdom,
my sanctuary,
paled in comparison
to his anger.