#347-M&M

A small piece of heaven…

Arid.

Hot.

Silent.

Yet grapes continue to grow,

From vines we planted,

Years ago.

And when I sip the wine,

I imagine the days we toiled,

Picking grapes,

Laughing, playing.

Time has passed,

But the taste of their fingertips linger.

Yes, those innocent,

Small fingers.