who am I that God should
have blessed me with a bloom
of wisdom in these seasoned
years of deeper knowing?
I observe many walking
by with faces like bitter lemons
give me sour lemons I shall
make lemonade to return to bless
the grapes of wrath I shall
stamp beneath my feet
turn into harvest wine finest
to grace your mealtime table
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem