Summer Barolo

Barolo

The Muscadet you left was so bleh.

So sharp, acidic, dissolving the glass.

It was in the cold months that you left

leaving this house to shiver

rather like I felt tasting your Muscadet.

In the spring, I open the first rose´

of spring, the earthy, so pink flowers -

the taste makes me, flush, blush.

But, spring flowers never stay for long -

like you when you finally popped your cork.

Now summer is here my desire is for a deep red.

I may pick up a rough and ready Chianti or

maybe a smooth expensive Barolo for

muskiness, deeper passion and warmth.

But the Barolo's cork comes out 

pops softly and spills,

staining the soft, white, linen.

I drink in this deep, delicious moment.

I breathe in aromas of this glorious, sensuous time,

then replete I luxuriate and look forward to

winter with mulled wine and lots of spice.

copyright Diana Leighton 2013