Shared wine, sipped by lips that cling to each other’s edge,
two vessels half full, yet wanting fulfillment within.
Their hearts beating as one, their touches silent in the night.
Wine the nectar that binds, cures all sadness, sipped and
nourishing our souls, the gods weep if the grape is sour.
High above the heavens their throne sits beside the brook
that runs red with golden grapes.
Blood red, tasting the grape a romance in the vine that
clings for life on the slopes of heaven. An angel met me
half way between heaven and hell, she revealed herself as
my twin, my zodiacal equal in so many ways, bound to
each other, like the grape, we cling, we savor, we taste
the sweetness of ages.
Touching in the dark, finding each other’s pulse.
Two souls have met, the long and winding road comes to
its end, no more detours taking us off track from
finding each other.
We meet and share a glass or two of the grape that
binds all. Memories are buried, lost forever, all abuse
fades as we are absorbed like the mist over a season.
She has risen indeed, found me, our searching has ended,
together now we sit clenching our glasses, quenching our
thirst for each other, slipping closer the bar stools touch,
we know that now is the time to leave the glasses of
vintage red linger awhile, as we slip into each other’s
arms and into the chill of winters frost.
© Copyright 2016 by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved