OLD WINE

I remember knowing

Warmth & desire,

Glowing embers

Of long distant fire,

To share a pillow,

Limbs entwined,

A new flavour

For an ancient wine,

As passion stirs

From banishment,

Wearing

Its ill-fitting coat

Of chastity,

Its wild obsession,

Shunned,

Its myopic vision,

Unwelcome,

Its choicest words

Best left unsaid,

Still unspoken

Inside the head,

Hoisted,

In their own

Eternal wondering,

Perhaps discretion

Is the better friend,

Without beginning,

Or pointless end.