The Inkwell

Strawberries Red, sit in their patch of Green,
trying to hide in the spaces between.
But it is well known, that they will be found,
by the army of pickers in the fields on the ground

With leaves of Green, and fruit deep Red,
They sit there in their warm flowery bed.
Soon heading for jam in the village cream tea
with cream from the cow in th’next field named Daisy

Choosing these fellows  you have to be quick!
Small Strawberries often avoid the pick
Only attracting the butterfly’s eye
as larger strawberries get picked going by.

Some are sent out
to where tennis is played,
and alongside the champers’ the berries are laid.
Out in Green punnets, and eaten by those,
Watching the championship highs and their lows

Or they’re sent off by tractors,
to the farmers shed.
Where the workers make ice-cream,
these berries are led.

“Come find us!”, they laughed,
they were teasing..
but now they reside
in a place that is freezing!