Wine

WINE

I poured
My red love
Into an elegant
Glass
That stood
On a twisted past.

The glass
Feeling the touch
Of my red love
Limps away
To hide
In an electric light socket,
Shines like a blind eye.

For a moment
My red love
Stayed without a glass
In air,
But soon fell
To spread,
Stain the lilies
In the rug.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Ascent Aspirations