Red Wine Stain Poem by Carolyn Brunelle

What’s to be gained
from a red wine stain
except to lament
the money I spent;
a waste of a perfect
white scarf.

Perhaps it is a sin
to enjoy the grape,
each luscious brew
a reminder of earth’s
fullness and pleasure
waiting in keg and bottle.
But, alas, I have no fear
of excess m’dear;
it’s full speed on the throttle.

I have much to forget;
even more to remember.
Each glass gives me surrender
to days gone by and
memories that no longer glow
from a heart so protected by a
perfect white scarf.