Poetry Wine
Though I am stranger
By birth and by blood
I felt accepted
Pulling the cork out
I smelled the famed scent
Of the old vintner
Held captive in own
Sweat, when I sipped it
Words flowed out of me
Like the vine dresser
Pure, soft and gentle
For everyone’s heart
I remember well
The sweet echo of
The vintage Greek wine
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
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