A taste of childhood
Fermented in time
Precipitated in history
Sink in memory
It was August and September
Hanging fruit all over the hillside
plump. Rounded. Dark purple
Attract countless children
Chase picking
even if
Stung by wild bees and turned into pig heads
His hands and feet were scratched by the thorn shed
Scared away by snakes and insects
They still become
It became a reminder of my childhood seasons
Nowadays, i can't catch a casual glance on the street
I wouldn't hesitate
Carry it for aftertaste
Image description