The Lone Little Vineyard

A wooden frame
stands alone
in my yard

Many memories are attached
to this lonely wooden frame

Of planting seeds of grapes
watching the vines grow
up the structure and bud

Picking the grapes
with my grandfather
and tasting their sourness

There are some days where
I can hear the grapes
dropping into my grandfather's paper bag

And smell the sweet aroma
of the grapes
even though they grow no more