There are spunky little angels at the top of a bottle of wine and fearless little devils at the bottom.
wine
Inkdreaming
the smell of ink is
intoxicating to me —
others may have wine
but I have poetry
Pinot noir
Wine, she serenades me
with her first fragrant glass
purring plush purple poetry
Tra la la la la, tra lee!
She dances in vinous metre
in a second fermented flute
trilling tipsy-turvy tunes
Tra la la la la, tra leee!
Sip slosh, now she mumbles
bottle buzzing on pour three
a faint intoxicated harmony
Tra la la la la, tra leeee!
Tempus insaniam
Please someone tell me—
am I actually demented,
or just well-fermented?
Cheers!
Let’s drink to hope
and hope to drink!