Strawberries and Cream

- jan-u-wine
Oh.
 
The sweetness of them upon my tongue.
 
Sun-honey'd, vine-warmed,
 
layered in the rich ivory curdle of cream.
(And in my mind I laugh,
 
for it is a bit off,
this parchment cream,
 
a bit too sour ,
as if it had known
 
more than one harsh hour
 
parted from the quiet stone-grey chill
of the spring-house,
 
But........
 
to taste them again,
 
 
the feathered wind playing about me 
with gentle spring fingers....
 
the fragile green scent of grass
all but shocking in its newness.....
 
the friendly winking-gold eye of the sun
wrapping me in warm regard.....
 
 
To know all of these things once more.....
 
It makes me sorry,
almost
 
sorry
that it is the last time.
 
It makes me sad
that it has all been but a dreme
 
And I rest my head
upon
 
the heated pillow of rock
(imagining,
 
as I fall towards the gentle,
becalmed peace of forever
 
that a great pinioned
Lord of the
 
Air
has chosen once more
to separate
 
a simple hobbit from
his certain Doom).