Nearly Eden Copyright © Jen Overett 2011

We climbed a hill that perfect summer’s day
You, head down reading Baudelaire,
Me, all-admiring of your serious literary ways
While running laughingly ahead
To reach up to the sunlight and the cooling breeze.

Impossible to foretell, how later
As the burnished leaves began to seek a sharper cold
And their inevitable fall, that I would drop you too,
How being young I would not do it well;
And then your naked tidal wave of grief,

Its fierce, ungiving flow.
That day we climbed together though,
Found sweet forbidden strawberries growing wild.
You ate one gallantly to show me how and why,
Lay down on soft green grass and put your book aside.

I watched, transfixed, the scarlet swellings
Push up through your body as the allergy set in;
Reached out and touched one vibrant tip,
Both guilty and electrified,
A flush of red hot passion for your skin.