The sweet scent of overripe blackberries
hangs in the air like Spanish moss
on the Live Oak trees back home
and I want to pluck
them from their slumber
on the vines that assault
every random space their tendrils
can reach.
Blackberry pie sounds delightful
and I know you'd like it too.
How easy it is to do the things
you always wanted me to do
now that you're not here.
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