Wine Of Life Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Wine Of Life
The wine of life
We drank
But that was long ago.
Long, long ago.
We smacked our lips
Of red
For deep red the wine
Tasted
Of chill passing centuries.
Now in the goblets
The hot wines no longer
Pour.
Nor rises song
Amidst silences of night
No, nor verse
Nor of night's beauties the throng:
For
The wine of life we drank
But that was long ago.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: wine
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9/21/2024 11:58:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
If the delight of drinking red wine and the magic of being awake and bustling in the night - if these two things are taken from us, it will be a sign that we can no longer grasp what happiness is available to us. You know I think we Americans are unique in that the political document which established our nationhood - THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE - guarantees THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS. Perhaps that's why we don't surrender our hope for happiness, but keep our options always open. It's just a thought. Maybe/maybe not.