Oh that my life was easily portioned out as a bottle of wine.
I would break the bottle at your feet.
I would allow the wine to overflow into your glass and yours alone.
I would wait patiently in your cellar for your call.
But instead it overflows into a thousand varied Dixie cups open for the highest bidder or greatest caller of my heart. And soon the wine empties, leaving me broken, begging for someone to fill me. Where has it all gone?
But you alone have the solution.
You fill my bottle, even as I pour it out for you.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
No comments:
Post a Comment