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I’ll never forget that first drink I had, 
sweet Raspberry Merlot with my alcoholic dad-
He gave it to me with such ease, 
            my innocence died turning into disease.
I’ll never forget that first drink I had. 

      It dripped down my throat with fragrant desire, 
I had ignited a flame of drunken fire-
           It gave me intense pleasure, 
beyond time or measure, 
      my heart raced and I began to perspire. 

I grew up drinking that wine every day, 
         it drained to my stomach in a comforting way-
The sweet taste of fruit filled my soul, 
nothing like that Raspberry Merlot,
       until my life unraveled, began to fray.

         It doesn’t matter how it was made or where, 
all I know is of my life I didn’t care-
            An alcoholic I became so quickly, 
my passion for addiction I could see, 
   it was in my blood; was it really fair?

        How was I to stop my need for this drink?
I couldn’t face the facts, couldn’t think-
      I craved grapes from the vineyard, 
my life became so darn hard,
             fractured and shattered in one tiny blink. 

        This disease became my deep shame, 
I was filled with frustration and blame-
     No one could understand, 
why I held wine in my right hand, 
           I must confess a mess I became. 

Almost nine years ago I quit the bottle, 
         put in all the energy I had full throttle-
I strived for serene sobriety,
               a life of tranquil propriety, 
                                           but on my heart left a raspberry mottle. 



*mottle means: stain; blemish*

Alcohol Contest
October 15, 2017

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