WINES
The brisk, wintry gales
Glide sonorously
With the scent of holly
Over frozen dales.
In my lover’s dark eyes
There sighs a symphony
Beneath the cloudy, soporific skies.
We walk as pilgrims
As the gale departs
In the darkness of the moonlight,
On the meadows of the night,
As our felicity brims
In the carafe of our hearts,
With delicious wines of white.
~ John Lars Zwerenz
No comments:
Post a Comment