A Recipe For Sunset Ears

We came together, quiet, spent. Gazing West, in each content Watching clouds in red gold light With three flutes each of Andre White Uncorked with toast to absent friend Slowly poured and softly sipped each drop enjoyed until the end The Glory's there but ne'er the same sometimes it's sun but some times rain The weather's there to spice the game At times a field of dewfilled webs reflects the afterglow Or symphonies of sunlight fusion dancing prancing up and down on wind blown blades of grass All enjoyed in sweet seclusion until each holds an empty glass Alas, this too will pass