red wine (8/06/20)

chains clink, wood creaks.

 

the birds surrounding us sing their sweet song,

 

perfectly in tune with the sound of your voice.

 

their melody is almost as intoxicating as the crimson nectar that stains your lips.

 

as we rock back and forth on the porch swing,

 

i wonder

 

if anyone's wine breath has ever smelled this sweet,

 

and question

 

how i can keep this picture-perfect moment captured in my mind forever

 

just like the polaroid of you hanging on my wall.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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