blackened-rhodelia

the sun is low on the horizon it is growing dark but has yet to fade   there is light sufficient to observe the red dots but not enough to see how many were made he leans in reaching with his palm and the thorns don't seem to mind as he takes the berry within his fingers and marvels joyously at his find his lips are stained with the juice that didn't make it in and with his sleeve he wipes his mouth just to smear it upon his chin the taste is unripe and just a bit too strong and then he turns to me for comfort and wonders what he possibly did wrong in the years some day he will take the bite and make a face an