Because i don't see you very often,
I bottle up our time together,
like grapes in sunny weather,
made into delicious wine.
So when the feeling
hits me,
reaching for the metaphysical corkscrew,
taste that memory,
with every detail,
even the what seemed
Insignificant.
We're sat in the car,
you got raw milk in a jar,
but the dates gone too far,
throw it into the bin!
but that would be a sin,
maybe all's not lost,
especially at the bloody cost,
maybe the cream will be okay? Mmmmm it is,
my senses say,
satisfied we drive away.