Twenty-First Century Flint Mary Leonard

Sweet Cherries

When I brave the cold
                this winter, I will go
to my own attic

to sort and fold,
                sending stuff off
to the thrift shop, but maybe,

holding on
                to one pair of bellbottoms
red, white, and blue—

Sergeant Peppers pants,
                even to wear.
Who am I kidding!

But I can’t let go.
                Even she said, one month
before she died,

Take me home,
                I need to see
my roses, I need

to taste,
                one last time,
the sweet cherries.


October 2002 2River