Chapter 76 : Poetry : Grapes

A delightful bunch of purple, black, and green,

Ever so gentle as it always seems,

With jelly heart and outer fragility,

As sweet as any other entity.

Nestled in boxes or laid in a bowl,

Whispering stories to delight the soul.

Each bite a burst, a symphony of taste,

A fleeting joy you’ll never waste.

Grapes, the treasure of vine and sun,

In their quiet splendor, they’ve already won.

Purple as twilight, black as the night,

Green as the fields kissed by light.

Carry them forth to brighten the day,

In every form, they find their way,

A symbol of nature's simplest pleasure,

An earthly gift, a timeless treasure.

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