The Oenophiliac Dissolute’s Lament

Empty-lying-wine-bottle

I wandered ‘neath the stars, onto the shore, 

And stood there still, gazing at the sea.

The ocean, sand: I needed nothing more,

Except, perhaps, a sip of Burgundy.

I thought of Love, of Death, of friends grown old,

Of Passion’s Universe, of Life, of Time.

But then I noticed it was growing cold;

I really could have used a glass of wine.

With fevered brain, imagination fired,

I wrestled with the questions my soul posed,

But not for long; I soon grew somewhat tired.

I checked my watch: the liquor stores were closed.

Alas, dark sea, Farewell! I turned to go:

At home, glad thought, I had some nice Bordeaux.  


© Paul A. Zink

 

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