Meadow in honey-soaked sun. <br />Bunches of ripeness swing from each vine. <br />Work of the pressing just begun <br />When ardently your glance caught mine. <br /> <br />Wine hot-fermented for days. <br />Gold-beaded nectar you spoke with lips <br />Bubbling poetic love. From page <br />And red-juiced ink you bade me sip. <br /> <br />Unsealed was my palate, speech <br />Of love's sparkling effervescence spread <br />Romantic smile, blushing my cheeks. <br />But it soured, and spoiled months ahead. <br /> <br />Laughter's drink spilled, you started <br />On rougher new vintages which brought <br />Me gall. Trust wept as we parted. <br />Taste for fine wine cannot be taught.<br /><br />Fay Slimm<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/soured-wine/
