Friday, 22 February 2013

Picking Blackberries

Picking blackberries with a stranger,
In the moments bliss, now lost.
Imperial purple stains the fingers,
And thus, my Rubican, was crossed.
Empires fall, as false friends must too,
But how great will be the cost?
Once fine, now tattered, fortunes cloth,
Is held in memories woven frost.

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