.
The grapes,
dangling from a leafy vine,
an off-season vintage
in well water dreams
where I come out the victor,
the gallant one
who leads her from the wine
to savor the brandy
poured slowly,
steadily
with affection
but
It is just a dream,
as I awaken
to realize
the alcoholic content
does not meet the region
along a hillside vineyard,
dripping into a café carafe
tempting fruits
that are far sweeter
than something
produced
with feeling
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 10:55 AM UTC
.
The grapes,
dangling from a leafy vine,
an off-season vintage
in well water dreams
where I come out the victor,
the gallant one
who leads her from the wine
to savor the brandy
poured slowly,
steadily
with affection
but
It is just a dream,
as I awaken
to realize
the alcoholic content
does not meet the region
along a hillside vineyard,
dripping into a café carafe
tempting fruits
that are far sweeter
than something
produced
with feeling
A repost of a poem I posted yesterday, then accidentally deleted but now found it again. For those friends who had already liked or commented on it, please don't feel the need to do so again.
