Our Vintage Year

Today is the day I take down THAT bottle
marked V.S.O.P. I keep locked in my cellar.
The one I've long since thrown away the key.

Your imagination urges me every time we speak.
"Go get it. Go get it, I'm sure It's so sweet!"
The flavors should have changed and mellowed.
But I know what went in It and that makes me feel hollow.

A unique variety of bitter insecurity
with subtle notes of ignorance, discourage, skepticism,
frustration, fear, envy, guilt and loneliness.

You reassure me It will be fine.
Then you place your hand upon mine giving me the key
once again, courage, needed to unlock the dark dank cellar
cobwebbed with content shrouding the bottle.

It's opaque glass now covered with dust,
dark liquid swirls inside like an eerie aether.
Corked with scorn and dipped in tension.
I bring it up into the warm light of your compassion.

You melt away the tension with humor.
Pop the cork with sarcasm.
Proof that you're no stranger to their touch.
I reach into your chest for two glasses of hope and pour us both a sniff.
I quickly raise my glass as you gasp,
"They needed a little time to sit!"

We wait...

I get impatient and can't wait any longer, I sip first.
A solemn tear rolls down my cheek. What once was, is now gone.
Only the sweat nectar of wisdom, confidence, compassion,
understanding, splice solace, dignity, redemption and love remain.

The liquid burns in a good way as it goes down.
Stoking the cinders of passion into bellowing flames.
-DELIGHT! I'll call it delight! Fore it reminds me of your warmth and compassion.

I hand you the other glass of hope filled with delight, so you may
feel the same.
This way I can express enough with words...Thank you!

Thank you in so many ways!