Day 317: Evening Wine

I wonder about what we pour in a glass, is it the drink that matters, the moment or a spirit that is set loose in the real world. As I learn about the nature of things I am fascinated by art works locked in bottles and aged over time, they are material things we cannot touch or feel or even taste immediately for that matter and that is what makes it all the more elusive. In the utter chaos of putting an evening together from thin air that seems just as aged. I wish I could bottle up some of the things we don't get to keep, and age them till they have been given a perfect hue by time itself. I collect the corks for that matter as nostalgia we have unbottled and shared.

Evening Wine
My evening wine maybe lying undistilled
Bottles that once opened can never be sealed
Spirits that fills bottles and glasses for now
They have found escape in depth of my taste somehow

The colors I see as the sun wishes a farewell good bye
As the light glimmer of sunlight fades from my eye
Constrained in the ale that touches the lips
That are found in journeys we take & on long trips

My day seems drunk enough even without the wine
It keeps reminding me "I am okay, I am doing just fine"
Maybe the understanding is such that some days I will be quiet
I will fold my napkin on my table and sit down to write

Cherished among many but like time by itself
It hold on to the stem of the glass & in moments we dwell
But it will find a way out, it will find an escape
And it will  leave an aftertaste, make no mistakes

To the warm afternoon ending or evenings as they may
They are vintage wine, I find in moments every single day