Strawberries

Feed me strawberries in my mouth
This afternoon of youth.
The sun is hot, the road is clear
And we are heading south.

Feed me strawberries in my mouth:
Food of a long romance.
The corn is ageing in the fields
This harvest time in France.

Feed me strawberries in my mouth.
Agree not to arrive.
I’ll suck them off your fingers’ ends
As long as I can drive.

Listen to this poem — read by the author