She withstands the storm and arrives in wood and dry grass. Someone walks towards her. Hands linger as she slides deeper, shielding herself from profound confession.
“They’ve arrived the reddest, juiciest sweet spheres till now.”
The emerald beauty’s impact provokes procurement of lust and intrigue, even though she remains blissfully unaware. Outside, the vineyards leisurely begin their process of vinification.
She wants to be adorned as a crown, not chopped down and served alongside liver.
She waits. She watches.
And finally rests in peace when master rejects all and the slave delights.
A grape never lets a kind soul go hungry.
A tad overwritten perhaps……………..