i think it may have been a vine, a blueberry bush, full of fruit and thorns, the perfect complement to a life ahead. one must realize why a rose has thorns, and a bee has stingers, and people have their long nails sometimes. but yes, the flowers picked from the field in back, placed in small jars that once held jelly, on the table in the kitchen by the old black stove, where we also had tea, her spoons at the ready in a special silver cup. we watched the birds out the window, in the flowers, ecstatic in their colors and songs.
i think it may have been a vine, a blueberry bush, full of fruit and thorns, the perfect complement to a life ahead. one must realize why a rose has thorns, and a bee has stingers, and people have their long nails sometimes. but yes, the flowers picked from the field in back, placed in small jars that once held jelly, on the table in the kitchen by the old black stove, where we also had tea, her spoons at the ready in a special silver cup. we watched the birds out the window, in the flowers, ecstatic in their colors and songs.
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