The moon stands vigil as the wine prepares
To perform its secret ministry;
Well rehearsed, the sacred nectar obeys,
Raising the floodgates of memory

Love's smoldering ashes start to ignite ---
One more sip, and then the flame's aglow;
Intoxicating specters flood the room --
O, what sorcery . . . let the wine flow!

Hands that deliver torment with each touch
Guide me slowly into heaven's arms;
Passion flares, and as our lips combine
I yield to the wine's spellbinding charms

So the hours pass in shameless ecstasy
In the darkened nooks of Memory's Hall;
But the wine is dwindling  . . . it's almost gone,
Soon reality's curtain must fall

And dawn arrives spewing its harsh advice:
Abandon this trickery of the wine!
But dusk will bear witness to my heart's plea:
Sweet libation, make this night divine!

And so this strange ritual has sustained me
Through many godforsaken Decembers;
But should Time erode flakes of memory,
I'll not worry . . . the wine remembers