Dregs (poetry)
12th August 2012
Can you remember a time, Lorenzo, a wild, erotic time,
when the breathless air held a potent haze,
where grapes hung on the vine,
and their promise haunted our languid days
and their sweetness honeyed our nights,
as we lay a-bed with our limbs entwined,
drunk on love’s delights?
Do you remember the thrill, my lover, do you remember the thrill,
as the tidal wave of desire broke free
and flooded our veins until
we all but drowned in our lusty sea,
awash with our own dark wine —
does the vat of memory echo still
with that vintage near divine?
Did you ever imagine, my dearest one, did you ever imagine a day
when our dizzy world would turn sober
and passion would trickle away —
our rapturous summer is over —
can’t you feel how its warmth slow-ebbs
now the redolent cloud of tender decay
hovers over our dregs?
when the breathless air held a potent haze,
where grapes hung on the vine,
and their promise haunted our languid days
and their sweetness honeyed our nights,
as we lay a-bed with our limbs entwined,
drunk on love’s delights?
Do you remember the thrill, my lover, do you remember the thrill,
as the tidal wave of desire broke free
and flooded our veins until
we all but drowned in our lusty sea,
awash with our own dark wine —
does the vat of memory echo still
with that vintage near divine?
Did you ever imagine, my dearest one, did you ever imagine a day
when our dizzy world would turn sober
and passion would trickle away —
our rapturous summer is over —
can’t you feel how its warmth slow-ebbs
now the redolent cloud of tender decay
hovers over our dregs?