Fine Wine



Written about a year ago.


Drunk on your fine wine

Black and blue, under my skin

Take another hit, give in and climb high

Then, spirits slide back down, silent thud to the ground


You glisten and smile 

 Star to the world

 Crowds throng, huddle round you

Hanging onto words like mountain climbers’ ropes


Daily penance I'm in

Hear my confession

Absolve me from staying drunk on fine wine


Intentions pure as an uncut diamond

Farm and plough green fields

Turning soil on red ripe hearts

Plant a seed, watch it grow


Harvest time, crops so plenty

 Raking in shared smiles, heaps of praise, all glory

Your wagon now full to overflowing

 Hitch the team back up north, to reap what you sow


Golden apple dwells there,

Pulling the tether

Pinging for more, answer her faster


I huddle for warmth

Blanket soothe me with high minded thought

Still and silent

 In my field lying fallow


My crop is rich, pure to the marrow

Grain slips through fingers

That grasp without holding


Lively flames flicker

When splashed with cold reason

But recurrent sparks hover

Like ghosts, over shared dawns and evenings

Pour me more from the decanter.

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