Grape

Why should someone take such care
In changing sad old me
You'd think He had enough on His plate
Without the strain I be
For it has not been easy
His work has been cut out
It's been a lot like roping a steer
Who loves to scream and shout
But maybe He is winning
I'm coming round, at last
By heeding things He tells me
My stubbornness outclassed
You have to reach a plateau
From which you can't escape
Before you finally give in
My vine has grown a grape.