Sour Grapes

Sour Grapes

I remember the days when we used to run and our hearts would race

I'd count the minutes and you set the pace

I long for those days. My heart has grown lazy

and I gaze at the photos with memory hazy

I can no longer remember the small things

the details elude me

Frustrated, I cry. I don't know what's gotten to me

The days seem to slip through my fingers like tiny grains of sand

and now you're off somewhere in a foreign land

Like a child I wait for you behind the drapes

my hands wet, holding freshly washed sour grapes

Hahaha. I wanted to write something yesterday but I couldn't really come up with anything. I was in the shower and I was thinking about the oddity of seedless watermelon. Actually, I don't even know if seeded watermelons are even available anymore. Isn't it odd that some of these fruits have no seeds? How does life go on without seeds? And then I was thinking about how there have been seedless grapes forever... and that's when I decided that I needed to write about grapes. And this is what you got. Oh well. I then started thinking that if I write about grapes, is that equivalent to an artist drawing a bowl of fruit... writing about fruit. I dunno. I'm crazy. Peace out.