Wine dark as night sea, a bottle at ease in a cellar
On a shelf with a rusty key, gathering dust of time.
Hundred years gone when stillness is disturbed,
Auction, the rich can buy this wine but not drink it,
The spell will be broken and its value worthless.
The rich admire the bottle it gives them status but
They drink young wine and marry a trophy wife.
When time is near, they stagger down to the cellar
But have not the force to uncork the bottle that
Could have made their life a journey of love.