Strawberry Fields Forever

The summer I was 16, I arose at 4:30 A.M. and caught the berry bus.

We picked strawberries under the Pacific Northwest sun,

intending to finish flat after flat for spending money,

but we had a little too much fun.

 

We talked. We laughed.

We danced in the rows

Wild Thing played on our transistor radios.

Wild thing, you make my heart sing, you make everything groovy.

 

We divided into couples and temporarily fell in love,

kissing under  trees at lunch, with bologna on our breath.

I picked quickly one day to meet a cute tall boy in the next row.

Not sure if I liked him, but thought I’d find out.

 

We strolled to an open barn and looked inside at a cool boat.

Back in the field, as we worked earnestly, Peggy, the berry boss approached us,

What were you two doing in the barn?

We weren’t in the barn. We were at the door, looking at the boat.

 

She was from my church, where sex was the big sin.

She was sure sex was happening in that barn.

It wasn’t.

But she didn’t believe us.

 

Decades have passed since the strawberry fields.

Life seemed carefree then, but it wasn’t;

there was Vietnam.

Still, I will remember strawberry fields forever.

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Dave Brown]

there always seems a Vietnam lurking, but this took me back to a strawberry farm where I used to work and the hordes of pickers that arrived at harvest time
A good memory

[Shelley Warner]

Yes, sadly there is always a Vietnam lurking. I'm glad this poem brough back strawberry field memories for you.

[Chris Shaw]

Strawberry fields forever. So sang the Beatles. Back in the sixties when life was such an adventure, but then there was Vietnam too. Thank you for sharing Shelley. You took me down memory lane.

Chris

[Shelley Warner]

Thank you Chris. You are such a faithful reviewer. I am glad it took you down memory lane. Love the song by the Beatles.