Merlot, Riesling, Moscato.
In a tumbler, a wine glass--
The vessel doesn't matter
And neither does the wine,
It's the company.
Isn't that what drinking is about?
Company? Camaraderie? Connversation?
A warmth from inside,
Whether heart or drink,
That lasts past the hurt?
My favorite wine buddy,
And there are several
From which to choose,
Is my mother.
That is, until she falls asleep.
Out
Posts
Time travelers, you have a new assignment.
8 hours ago
4 comments:
As Mrs. Bates was so fond of saying, "A boy's best friend is his mother." In hindsight, however, it's probably best to have other friends too. It's also not a good idea to murder your mother and then bring her back to life in your mind.
Your poem, on the other hand, is lovely. That's wonderful that you and your mom have something like that to share and enjoy together. You're lucky.
This is lovely. Our "stoep" family (iow, my own family and my adopted family) has a favourite wine that we drink when we visit. It is a naturally sweet wine (definitely not for wine snobs) and it is called "Four Cousins". It is bottled in the Bree River Valley in the Western Cape by 4 cousins. So yes, I enjoyed your post because I appreciate how warm and lovingly one can pass the time with those close to you over a glass of wine.
Thanks, all.
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