My Cellar Across the kitchen, through the door, Which leads to a room beneath the floor, A vintage red awaits me there, Properly aged and kept with care. The door, it swings with mournful cries. Reach for the light, adjust my eyes. And descend the narrow wooden flight, Above, a challenge to my height. The air now cool and dry to me. Stone and mortar walls, I see. Beneath my feet, the earthen floor Leads to the rack, my vintage store. A special wine tonight, I�ll choose. With this, I know, I cannot loose To tantalize, impress my guest, By offering the very best. Dust from the bottle, gently blow. The date revealed, now surely know The taste within will soon delight My honored guest, this special night. I proudly hold my treasured find, To the steps now quickly climb. Back to the world above the floor, To she who waits for me to pour. Douglas Fletcher 5/25/01 |
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