Blueberry

Cooks boil you into a purple coulis
By grinding and bleeding you dry
But you were never purple to me
Not red, orange, yellow or green.
I think of you, I truly do at night
When the skies have no heavenly lights
Sitting around counting my toes
While rain clouds crowd the skies
I am kinda blue when eating my

Blueberry Buckle

You’re so wholesome and sweet
I can eat you up by the handful
For when there are no stars
I have you frozen or fresh
You are one and only star-berry.