Twisting threads of warmth, a snug embrace around necks, dancing in the winter's breath, vibrant companions to chilly days.

I start as a bunch, but I'm not a grape; I have many colors and a beautiful shape. I'm held by a bride on her big day, Then tossed to the crowd before she goes away.

A word to describe something that’s more hip Or a place to store munchies on a long trip.

In the corner it stands, with a welcoming grin, Swallowing scraps, from breakfast to din. Like Grandma's old apron, it catches the spill, Always there to tidy, with patience and skill.

Three balls in the air, Swinging, catching, a blur, Master of the toss.