More to wine

A skin of leather, rough and old, a paper crinkled thousand-fold, a dusty room, the scent of pine, would you believe that I mean wine?   A scent of herbs and tar and rose, a land of fog still in your nose, a score of ninety-nine point nine, yet, there is so much more to wine.   A berry colour, dark and red, a million words all left unsaid,…
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Fireflies

It takes a spark and fires fly, from me to you, both low and high. They bite and burn, they kiss and sting, it all turned sour before spring.   For then the night fell fast and dark, omitting sight and robbed the spark, that once was there, but is no more, a window opened, closed the door.   And yet it burns with heat and fire, ignites the…
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Words and Wishes

They are falling – slow for now. In a world full of pain, never landing, somehow.   Words and wishes, there is so much she misses. Wishes and words, fly away now, like birds.   They are falling – quicker now. There is so much to gain, by landing, somehow.  
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