THE BOTTLE OF WINE – a poem by Chris Bell
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The label and the bottle appear fine
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Aged with a comforting conservative look
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The hard-paid price reassuringly high
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But what of this blood-red wine?
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It’s from the best terroir I am told
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And regarded as fine
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But will it linger on the tongue
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Or travel, or help unravel
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The complexities of life?
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We cannot know until it’s opened
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And all its outward promise checked
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By each and every supper guest
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Visiting for such a short time
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Always looking for the best
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To prove the worth of every open-ended corkscrewed birth
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At least its life-blood is poured carefully
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Glass by patient glass
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What comments will they pass?
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All agree it’s fine
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Now that we’ve breathed some life
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Into the wine.
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June 2016.
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Chris Bell lives in Kent, England, and is a member of the Walmer Poetry Club. He is also a noted photographer (www.chrisbellphotogallery.com).
Oeno-File, the Wine & Gastronomy Column 