A Trodden Grape


Luscious and purple they are, 

Wonder if I look in par? 

Bounds of beauty they hold

All dancing black & bold. 


They pride as they get picked, 

I sigh, knowing not my turn

They glee when it's time to flee

I glance with a yearn, wondering yet my turn.


The vine is all hustles, 

With each cluster pruned.

They market well I suppose

Doubting my flaw- I oppose. 


Then came my day,

Picked and trucked 

I was sold and bucked.

Knowing not what destiny holds my way.


I was trodden and squished, 

Trampled and swamped,

I knew not what it meant

Until I realised the place the trodden self was sent.


From a trodden grape to a fine wine,

I glisten and shine.

Purple and luscious

I beat those in par

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