Dark Wine
Dark wine, swirled in a crystal glass,
holding the fire’s ruddy highlights.
A dark mirror, in which images pass,
prompting thoughts this night so right.
Silent parade of the past comes in review,
and I walk halls of my mind, in retrospection.
Some are as sweet as clear morning dew,
others, taste of bittersweet self-deception.
Smoky flavor of a red, red wine bites soft,
and memories entwine with highlights in my glass.
Night sounds play a soft melody that loft,
such thoughts that take me away as they pass.
My pipe softly crackles as clouds of dreams arise,
clouds of aromatic memories to drift about.
Like fog, they all too often hide reality and the lies,
and yet I care not, for in time I’ll figure it all out.
Whispers of a scribing pen record words at play,
and I find something there that I watch with care.
Part of me and part of life shaped to have its say,
and I let the night lead me where it will so fair.
Dark wine, swirled in a crystal glass,
holding the fire’s ruddy highlights.
A dark mirror, in which images pass,
prompting thoughts this night so right.