poem3 - bordeaux

'

Years ago on the slopes of Bordeaux
a harvest in the sun
Plump juicy grapes where flung into crates

and the ritual had begun.

Trodden and squeezed the juice was released
a taste of things to come
Five years to soak in barrels of oak
the vintner’s task was done.

Finally bottled and labelled and corked
boxed and sent away
then opened and poured, savoured, adored
for this was its finest day.

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let me read it to you!

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