#1025901 added February 2, 2022 at 3:17pm Restrictions: None
The Last Draught Of Red
Like your finger deep
in my full red wine,
your skin wets to sample,
your eyes linger, never leave
my wondering —
will you taste anything more?
Is burgundy bitter,
beginning to turn with age?
Who couldn’t savor, yet
you are not at my cup?
Long ago, a moment replayed —
hope when a vine was not fully mature.
And though we desired something cheap,
imbibed enough
for one to forget.
Now that I’m hardy, you could
tip my glass to your lips.
I’ll pour it out,
with nothing else to offer
but the last draught
from a dusty, green vessel.
The vineyard produces much more,
but I’m afraid
none spared ever again
for me.
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