Lee Ann Schaffer
Vintage - Poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
The day ran
Like a bottle of
Fine, rare, red wine
Poured into my hands.
Gone before I’d
Even had a chance
To drink it.
No matter how tightly
I squeezed my fingers together,
All that remained was
The fragrance and slightest taste,
The scent and flavor
Of my own skin.
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