I searched for an existing string, but couldn't find one. I wanted to post this poem, so I began a new one. Hope you enjoy!!
Cancer in the Seed
In the seed of a grape on a trunck in arrays,
I remember how it felt when we’d split separate ways,
traipsing rows in the clos, soaked in yellow, summer days,
how we’d pine for each other, like the moon through a phase.
Prune a cane as we’d clip, twine the shoots in different ways,
pluck the berries by the bunch, long for cooler, autumn days,
laughing out, as we mused, this was merely just a phase,
soon we’d harvest all the vines from the trellis in arrays.
Then we’d crush into must, pressing purple juice for days,
and relish how we’d swoon in the taste-arresting phase,
drain the wine from the casks, line the bottles in arrays,
stack the cellar with the fifths, much like bees in their ways.
But the pipe cracks a leak in the fermentation phase,
as we seep through the lees, over argols in arrays,
just as cancer in the skin tends to kill in killer ways,
and the time we loved best were those early, yellow days.