The Cellar Of My Mind Poem by Mihaela Pirjol

The vintage wine is sweeter,
but the vintage love is sour:
there is no refinement with age!

Such is the paradox of life…

Not everything improves with time!
are we becoming acrid with age,
or are we fermenting in flavour?

Memory is the only good cellar…

Nothing else can preserve,
nothing else can encapsulate
the essence of the grapes of love:

Only the memory escapes time…

Escapes extinction:
it can decompose the time
as time decomposes love:

It preserves it alive…

Survives in an everlasting
spring of love, and wine;
of beauty, and divine…

But, not the indifferent Time…!

No…Time, rips your heart,
and slowly lets you die
in dreams of wine:

I keep memories in the cellar of my mind…