Warm Wine

When you smile it feels like warm wine
not the remains left on a windowsill
but Christmas and dreams,
market walks and midnight talks
and loving, loving when your hand
traces the trajectory of my thigh,
I sigh, and shortness is not something
it is just a breath, a quickening
like lightning and I cry real tears
because it is here and now and
it is all so short a time between
warm wine and tears at sunrise



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 746 times
Written on 2014-11-16 at 19:10

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I like this one a lot, Elle. Yes, it is "so short a time between warm wine and tears at sunrise."
2014-11-18


Chaucer Whethers
Well read, classical modern. :-)
2014-11-18



A very soft and tender love poem. Beautiful writing.
~Ashe
2014-11-17