Words like Wine

(For Ivan)

I drink your words
with deliberate deference
as supple legs walk my glassy skin
words swirl to generate
the finest hint of what’s to come.

Aromas whisper promises
of then and now
olefactory ears pull memories
from my dusty shelves,
relived, wet and new,
whilst surprising me with hints of you;
terroir tales of summer days
dance with earthy echoes of the soils
wrapped about your roots
and solum companions
that seasoned your walk.
Each note is penned
with accolage that shaped
impending fruit.

Lips denied libation
cage a fidgeting tongue;
restless want aroused
by the scent of your ink
swells anticipation
eager to taste your narrative.

Ripened hunger mouths every word
rejoicing in full flavoured union
of kept promises slipping
from page to rimmed precipice.
My palate piques as your
words meld to melodies,
layered linguistics that tell of
tears and celebrations;
an existential encore
that grips slick in my mouth,
balanced mid-palate.

Words wash my throat
leaving my tongue to hum
your unctuous song
truth lingers in the Caudalie,
smooth and spiced
like the warm rush of a kiss
blushed with understanding.

I cannot be sure
who consumed whom
and I wonder as much
in the afterglow
of words that leave me stained
marvelling at the finesse
and quiet strength
of your finish.

©Maggie Lawson 2018

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