I envy the raisin, it's pleased with it's shape,
now wrinkled and dry, this once juicy grape
retains all the goodness, let no grace escape.
And as I wrinkle, in my ten thousand days
adsorbing the gift of the God's solar rays
may I preserve what's deserving of praise.
Will some think of me, as a palatable treat,
invite me to dinner, but not just to eat,
finding my presence as dessert most sweet.
Gerald Bosacker