22~9

he took it with him

 

the smell

of fresh blackberries

 

churned

into cold cream

 

surrounded

by salt and ice

smiles and laughter

 

an old wooden bucket

of ice cream by the lake

 

cousins swimming

amongst creepy fish

leaping from the boat

 

racing for purple streaked cones

handmade by my uncle 

 

recipe forever gone

 

just like him

One thought on “22~9

  1. Wow, beautiful poem! I like the concrete imagery and the way you conjure the scene in a nostalgic moment and connect it with your uncle. The sensory details–“smell of fresh blackberries”–and precise word choice are fantastic. I love the lines “creepy fish leaping from the boat” and “racing for purple streaked cones / handmade by my uncle.” As I re-read the poem, the first line has even more of an impact. Great poem!

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