Sour Grapes

As I was scanning the scenery for poetic prompts on Saturday, I was amused to find myself drawn to the burgeoning vine leaves in our garden which had been the unsuspecting victims of a mass hack down by Android last year. Wise to the error of his ways, Android has taken a more gentle approach to his pruning this year I am relieved to say. The vines, so they tell me, were pleased to find their voice in the following poem penned on the morning of my Poetrython.

In Vine Voice

Well thank you sir, you listened then

‘Bout time we had our say

Do you think we’ve forgotten when

you hacked us all away?

It was unfair to chop us there

You punished us unduly!

We weren’t some mane of horses hair

That had become unruly!

Just little vines, the summer’s sign

That it was time for creeping

You might have turned our fruits to wine

If you’d thought before leaping!

But we are back, our buds on track

We’re stronger and well nourished

No sour grapes or looking back

Just leave us here to flourish!


8 thoughts on “Sour Grapes

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