raspberries

The raspberries taste like home,

transporting me back to a place that’s no more.

The memory is tied up with the

happenings, knoted into a bow.

I remember the path.

I remember the horizon.

I remember you told me

it wasn’t beyond us.

As we trek the path

let’s leave it behind,

the buried memories

the buried past

we know it can’t last.

The raspberries we once ate,

is all that remains to take me home,

to all that wanders,

to a place no longer known.