Ode to a Wineglass

 

She has lips, like a promise, subtly curled;

Yet firm in hold, such promises to keep;

So wide and red, a secret yet unfurled

Ringing a perfect coloured note, writ deep.

The waist, some say, is pinched in neat too tight,

Held light in one hand like all love affairs:

Deep wishes for the lasting of the night.

Instead I find her body deep with cares.

So deep with the red-breast heart of dalliance,

The scent of her unravels me like lust.

I dance in her, so rich with her to dance,

Her taste of lush deliverance and dust.

Yet soon my lips are tainted by the touch

And taste of someone whom I love too much.

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