How can three cheers, the rush, and the cascade
Of memories reside so patiently
In glass so dark, weighs in the hands like stone?
Who trapped the new year, captured the parade,
The happy day, in glass so perfectly,
The genie somnolent in shade, alone?
The lamp that holds the light, can scarce contain
An ecstasy in waiting, somehow still
And silent in her case, sleeps on a shelf;
Bubbles motionless while hours remain,
The promise patient, dreaming now, until
We relish in the taste of gold, herself:
Pop! Flurried fast and colour-flourishing,
Overflowing froth in glasses shared:
Chink together glasses, for at last,
We share the wealth of kindness nourishing!
These treasured promises of hope declared,
The golden view of futures, and our past.
This was a poem written for another dear follower of mine, who only asked that the subject of the work should be champagne. Initially, my focus was on the anticipation, the patient silence of a waiting bottle. Later he requested an additional two stanzas on the actual enjoyment of the wine. Cheers.