the grape

He was
Mellowed and aged to perfection
The perfect combination of vine and sun
The perfection of taste and value

She was
Picked to soon
Before she was ripe and ready to age
The taste was bitter not sweet

They were
Mixed to be as one
Only to turn rotten
Before their love
Could ever be


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About Me

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So Cal, United States
I am an apprentice writer of short stories and I also attempt a little poetry.