The Last Bottle Of White Wine (For Onyeka Nwelue) Poem by Echezonachukwu Nduka

Sip gently to bury the fears that fight your will.
Your feet are heavy to take a walk to the place you
once called home.
Let the last drop lighten your feet
and make them swift.
Tomorrow's tale shall bear witness
to the white wine's prophesy.

When the wine is finished, spare not the bottle.
This last bottle of white wine in Paris is the first
bottle of palm wine in your fatherland;
The taste is the home you seek.
Do not forget, the taste awaits you patiently.