In fields where crimson whispers grow,
Beneath the sun’s soft, golden glow,
Strawberries dance in morning’s light,
A tapestry of red in sight.

Their fragrance weaves through summer’s breeze,
A sweet embrace among the trees,
With tender hearts that softly gleam,
They cradle secrets in a dream.

Upon warm earth, their stories told,
In whispered hues of red and gold,
Each berry holds a silent song,
A timeless rhythm, pure and strong.

As twilight drapes the world in night,
The strawberries rest in gentle light,
Awaiting dawn’s first gentle kiss,
In fields of peace and endless bliss.