Grapes Poem by Saqib Abbas

The garden produces,
A hundred grapes-

Moist but unsoaked
Almighty, they cry,

Make us fruit
Juiced with sweetness

Steeped in wellness
Mold in cherishment

Covered with couching
Of a beautiful impulse

Resolved with freshness
These bunches of grapes,

Fruit the garden
Garden the eyes-

And gaped mouths munch
Adorn the juices

Of unending surmise
Tutored to jewel blood

Marvel pared hopes
Arouse failed dreams

Startling black
Soothingly green