Oenophilia

It's always been an uncanny pleasure of mine, To behold the tetchy affair that thrives between A gregarious man and his choice crimson wine; For each loves and loathes in equaled measure. How both meticulously give and evenly take To seal the crack that coerced giving claims, Each ceding ground and forgoing their cake; And daily perpetuate these love-hate games. Firstly as the wistful man uncorks the shields, You'd guess he'll guard the control he wields; But when the foamy guest oils that willing gut, Our bloke capricious grows and red eyes shut. Consensus is drawn and he should grab more, For buck's there and calling home stands near; Just a daring thought and some spoiling for war, For the world's sick and all stationary objects go. You own it's a profound sight quite rare and fine, To meet daring men and their dear crimson wine.