Red Wine

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Bottled and aged with sophistication,

I’m infatuated.

Her look. Her charm.

More so, my virginity unrelated.

 

She pours into my glass,

smooth as a satin robe.

Her elegance intoxicating.

Touching my lips, she asks for more.

 

I share my thoughts with her,

breathing in her bittersweet reply.

Glass after glass,

eventually calling it a night.

 

I went to bed alone,

laying there in the dismal light.

I fell in love with a woman

who lives in a glass of red wine.

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