I stood beneath the mulberry tree,
The one on Park Street,
On the other side of the train tracks
Around the corner from Whitehern mansion.
I admired the fruit on the branches,
As I did when I was a child.
We had one of these in our backyard,
I ate the berries back then.
But not this time,
I moved on.
Perhaps the school children enjoy its fruit, the way I once did.