Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

I see blackberries, blackberries, blackberries
	in my eyes, which is a sight
That keeps on lasting all day long and
	right into the night.
Starting early in the morning
	I headed out to pick a field.
My mother never realized how many
	a peck that field would yield.
First she made a pie and then
	some blackberry stew.
Blackberry jam was her last straw
	For she didn’t know what else to do.
As I got tucked into bed that night
	it seemed
That nothing else but blackberries
	would be all I dreamed.
Then the morning came and
	Mom said it’s another picking day.
This time we surely will have to
	give most of them away.
For others they were a treat
	not so often found.
But in my head years later,
	I still can see blackberries going ‘round.

© Copyright 1998 by Jean E. Gorney