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Personal Note:
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Poem
Like a present long waited for that is sealed
I’m in and out of love and don’t know how to feel
Although my love life has come to a yield
Now is the time to harvest the fresh fruit in the field.
I’ve picked apples and oranges
To lemons and limes
But I need someone that will marinate
Into a fine wine
I can’t create a prototype although I’m whipping the base
To sample and see how well it tastes
I’ve had a couple that has tried to make a case
But it just wasn’t my acquired taste
Had a blend a while back of strawberry and peach
Started to enjoy the blend though it was too sweet
Shaped around into a bottle of Eisenwine ’85 I knew I had plenty
Then it turned out to resemble the taste of Mad Dog 20/20.
In the field I happened to pass by another peach
I thought it was out of my reach
All of my friends told me to pick her please
Even though it felt like she instead picked me
Things were sweeter after we started to intertwine
Like a Chenin Blanc ’00, she was a light white wine
Our fermentation didn’t turn as well as prepared
Then I found out the whole time my wine was being shared
Her wine was discontinued and taken off the shelf
Although I still bootleg on occasion cause my skills are superior to anyone else
But now the Chenin Blanc’00 tastes more like Chenin Blanc’78
And I know it's at its best between 3 to 5 years after the date.
My year is expired and pouring her out is the hardest
Until I realized that she was not the end of my harvest.
My last harvest  has the blend of peaches,berries, and grapes
Shes got a hold on my taste buds that I can’t escape
Weve known each other for a while and Ive watched her blend
Shes a little pricey but I wonder should I put in a bid
Theyre other wines that are close to her
And other samplers that wouldn't approve
At this point I feel like I have nothing to lose
The sample thus far has got me bent
She must have been heaven sent
Slender with sex appeal from her eyes to her toenails
Like a bottle of ’86 White Zinfandel
Shes intriguing at every stage
Like Zinfandel, shes going to get better with age
The thing that hurts about keeping it to myself
Is that I know there is not another one on the shelf
Comparing her to other wines is a waste
Cause deep down inside I know shes my acquired taste
Now you see why my love life is at a yield
I should just harvest the fresh fruit in the field
For this particular fruit, Id put down my last dime
To see if she'll marinate into my glass of wine
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