Bramble Vine

Blackberries grew in the thicket north of our yard

In summer we’d pick them and come home with stickers

And thorns in our arms

Some hours later when supper was plated and served

We’d barely remember the pain for the pleasure

That went into making dessert

Some kind of love is like that

Sweetness buried in a thorny patch

Bramble vine, heat, and time

Form a heart from the scraps

Like making pie from scratch

Some kind of love is like that

Someone once showed me the best way to work with the dough

Just a few presses, you crimp down the edges

Then squeak the old oven door closed

Finding a balance to strike between effort and ease

Requires some practice, a delicate lattice

You learn it degree by degree

Some kind of love is like that

Sweetness buried in a thorny patch

Bramble vine, heat, and time

Form a heart from the scraps

Like making pie from scratch

Some kind of love is like that

Some kind of love is like that

Sweetness buried in a thorny patch

Bramble vine, heat, and time

Form a heart from the scraps

Like making pie from scratch

Some kind of love is like that