Grapevines

As they sway like arms in the wind,
Leaves slowly drifting to the ground like tears on a child’s face,
The branches turning bare after the long harvest,
You can see them go on for miles,
Slowly fading as you can’t see them anymore,
Branches intertwined with pine,
Birds fly thorough pecking up the seeds,
The ones forgotten, left behind,
The rough, dry surface appearing old and withered.

As the seasons come and go,
We jump over many hurdles,
Droughts,
Floods,
Heat Waves,
But they power through,
As summer comes around again,
Leaves will be once more,
Swaying like arms in the wind.