Ode to Raisins
Relax in the sun
As they wither and grow old
Once young, fresh skin
Becomes wrinkled and lumpy like your grandma
Soft on the outside yet hard at the center,
Strengths origins
The violet fruitage
Spends it vacation in the hot and humid sun
Sticky and thin
Crooked, irregular oval, once a pretty grape
Reduced to a bittersweet, sour, and tangy raisin
Rubbery, waxy
Hardly considered a food
Yet with the strength to take on the world
Traveling country to country with serene peace
As it swishes and whirs in the cup that has become its home
Keeping a steady rhythm as the cup is swerved
Pitter, patter like rain droplets
Miniature in size
But gigantic in physique
Narrow, plain
Patterned with the marks of working hands
Tough and rigid like a man who has been working his whole life
Lean, bruised
From adventures and simple accidents
Their journey ends as they are packed into boxes
Only to be eaten and the circle of life begins