Fruit baskets & war

We lived on the army estate but the only war we fought

was us against the world: single mum and I, living

in a two bed flat with blue and yellow walls – maybe

orange kitchen tiles – my memory is childishly hazy, relying more

on stories than tangible moments in which I remember the smell 

of your hair after you had a bath. But I remember the acquired fruit baskets

from Boxted’s fruit farm and watching the sun climb

higher in the sky before we wandered into the adjacent fields.


Together we scoured hedges, nicked our wrists and fingers

on brambles as you extolled lessons on picking the ripest berries;

learning, in my innocence, the difference between red berries

and blackberries. Picking and stealing juicy mouthfuls until

my fingers bled with summertime.


And on these days Mum, we won.

We won the war and loved until the sun closed its eyes,

rested its weary head like mine, lolling on your shoulder.



Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

10 thoughts on “Fruit baskets & war

  1. jonicaggiano says:

    This is so very sweet. What a precious gift your mother gave to you my friend. What a beautiful blessing your tender poem! This is such a dear poem every line is beautiful. Thanks for sharing this sweet glimpse into your childhood. Have a blessed weekend my friend. Love 💕 Joni

    Liked by 1 person

  2. GriffReed says:

    Driving through that army camp in my wee Northern Irish registered car still has to be one of the most terrifying experiences of my life!!

    Things you can’t just “do” in Northern Ireland!!

    Liked by 1 person

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