LAS (1962 / Charleston, South Carolina, US)

Vintage

The day ran
Like a bottle of
Fine, rare, red wine
Poured into my hands.

Gone before I’d
Even had a chance
To drink it.

No matter how tightly
I squeezed my fingers together,
All that remained was
The fragrance and slightest taste,
Mixed with
The scent and flavor
Of my own skin.

User Rating: 4,9 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

I am very much so enjoying your poetry...it is very refreshing...I shall keep my eye on you...lol ~stephanie n. anderson