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