Drinker

w c

Drinker

 

One summer I tasted fine wine

From a local winery

I drank what was mine

And also my company’s

 

I enjoyed every glass

Both the white and the red

Though they all tasted the same

as the guzzling went to my head

 

I tried to pace myself

And I did fine for a while

Until with no real reason

I hurried and lost my style

 

Fellow tasters knew I was different

And not cut out for the art

Where their palates were delicate

Mine was cold and hard

 

I left the winery

And stopped at the liquor store

I bought the cheapest made

And drank a dozen more

  • Author: w c (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 4th, 2018 02:43
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 26
  • User favorite of this poem: Syd.
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Comments2

  • orchidee

    A fine write wc.

    • w c

      Thanks orchidee.

    • Lorna

      I know it's a sad message but I laughed....... that "what are you going to do" kind of laugh.......

      • w c

        Thanks Lorna. I'm happy it made you laugh.



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