Bordeaux Poem by Shawn Greyling

How we read between the red and white lines of classic Napoleanic bouquet,
How the heart beats blood from south to west
As mine ears listen to the sweet tweet of a humming bird’s zest.

Such things are not to be held dear alone;
Not for one eye to see and the other to bask in love’s loneliness alone.
Let’s, you and I,
not go through the rags of life with the thought of what the morrow holds,
let’s, you and I,
dive off the cliffs of Moher into spontaneous love,
emancipated by the cabernet kiss of Bordeaux.
Let’s, you and I,
pretend in a world of images black and white
that we are the only ones to have colour added to our stride.

If am but a dreamer, let it be –
For when my head meets the pillow,
Joy I will find in my sleep.