My hands have tilled the God given land
To bring forth fruits,
to take them in hand.
Plucked so lovingly from each vine
I'll now transform them
into bottles of wine.
They'll age gracefully as I have done
From a bitter rough youth
softened and mellowed, as slowly matured
by the evenings suns.
And as our lives are, so will they be.
At some point in time, only a memory.
by......Walter James
06/22/10