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The Wine Glass by Lelia Thomas
A chair’s set aside for you
At this dinner made for two.
The red tablecloth is smoothed out
With good china and silverware atop it.
The wine bottle shivers in its bucket of ice,
Calling to our throats with the sweetest voice.
And already I sense a familiar sensation
Of a common past and future
Lying in our souls.
At this dinner made for two.
The red tablecloth is smoothed out
With good china and silverware atop it.
The wine bottle shivers in its bucket of ice,
Calling to our throats with the sweetest voice.
And already I sense a familiar sensation
Of a common past and future
Lying in our souls.
There’s food
laid between
us— All the
courses of a
meal, And
flickering light
and shadow
Of candles
beckoning to
the eye. The
five senses
flooded
With Time
falling so slowly.
laid between
us— All the
courses of a
meal, And
flickering light
and shadow
Of candles
beckoning to
the eye. The
five senses
flooded
With Time
falling so slowly.
These words
and moments—
So precious
to the spirit.
And quiet
passion plays
Between us with
our heated stares.
In words and wine, the night will dwindle
As longing fire in the heart does undeniably kindle.
and moments—
So precious
to the spirit.
And quiet
passion plays
Between us with
our heated stares.
In words and wine, the night will dwindle
As longing fire in the heart does undeniably kindle.
Details
Written in 2004, this was part of a submission I made into a poetry competition. I rarely use visual forms in poetry (I find it superfluous), but it seemed appropriate here.