Blackberries I picked with my Nan

Like in the Enid Blyton book she bought me

Blackberries that we picked in the hot sun

When Cida kicked over the Tupperware

Blackberries like in my favourite book

And in wines procured from historical sites

Blackberries expensively presented in luxury punnets

Uncomfortable in their skin

Blackberries like I’d forgotten for so long

In a world where nature is an alien thing

Blackberries, frozen from a supermarket

To mix into Bircher muesli; cool and crisp

Blackberries growing along the River Taff

Sharp on my thoughts, every morning walk to work

Blackberries that boldly grow around the bay

Right around the corner from my door

Blackberries, full of memories

I’ve been carrying, ripe for the plucking

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