I was rather stuck with my writing today and just could not put a sensible sentence together in the piece that I was writing. Then I had a glass of wine and relaxed and the words flowed. As did the wine, and so a short poem dedicated to the Bacchanalian beverage.
The bottle says it’s Pinotage
But it tastes like wine to me
To be precise, Pinotage Shiraz
And yet it tastes like wine to me
‘Scents of plum and chocolate’
Still it tastes like wine to me
‘Spicy fruits and tannins’
It says it’s WINE, right here, see?