wine

it's like a fine, fine bottle of wine
opened to breathe before you drink
you admire the beauty--that dark, rich color
and savor that redolent smell
your taste buds start to water
for that first sweet, sweet sip
carefully, by the crystal stem
it is raised to expectant lips

but the flavor isn't as honeyed
as we had hoped that it would be
the clarity not as perfect
for the price of the bottle paid
and what falls to the bottom
the sediment, if you will
goes there for a reason
they're the dregs poured down the drain


Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License