Fine Wine

Nostalgic raisins reminisce

About the good-ol days

When they were but young grapes on the vine

Talk of dreams

Take them back

Their only desire, to become fine wine

They would brag about who had the finest juice

And encourage the smaller grapes to grow bigger

Teaching the little ones the secrets of becoming plump

Old now

Shriveled

trying to lift the other’s spirits

“We’ll be a much healthier snack than some old candy bar”, one says

As a tear comes to his little raisin eye

Silently thinking

“What would momma and daddy think if they could see me now?”

Eyes close in shame

Thinking about things that will never be

the old days hanging in the sun

Dreaming of becoming Fine Wine