No need of a ‘cru’: grand or otherwise – <br />The wine of ‘nous’ is simply sublime: <br />Vines grown in groves of tenderness and grace <br />Upon the softer incline of our lives. <br />Rooted a country and almost a generation ago <br />In the sandy soils of the chalk-contoured coastlines of our youth <br />Tended by the sweet kisses of the Daughters of Destiny <br />And the safe hands of the Sons of Steadfastness, <br />Our lately-come fruit is grown ripe and plentiful, <br />Watered by the cool, plaited streams <br />Tripping down from the rolling hills of our home. <br /> <br />The taste on the tongue is neither rich nor regal – <br />Lacking that confluence of complexities <br />Of the twisted plots and dramatis personae <br />So beloved of the ‘buffs’ of Love <br />That mewl and moan from Mills and Boon <br />And leer lewdly from the outer reaches of the top shelf – <br />Yet it is life-long and true: <br />Laid down at first sight, first song, first kiss <br />And husbanded and wifed in careful constancy <br />In the safe-heart-cellar of our spirit. <br /> <br />Now family and friends drink the draught <br />Of the love of our lives <br />And see <br />And know <br />And share <br />The patient fruits of our years of waiting and wanting <br />And the Singular Beauty of the Time of our Being.<br /><br />Tony Jolley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/softer-incline/
