Remember the wine? The red, red wine?
Some would remember it as vintage blood
Taken like the Sunday blood of Christ,
Bitter pinard or maybe even worse!

Time provides such a masterly disguise
To events your mind no longer recalls
With clarity. Remember where we sat?
That green table on the hot castine?
On that hot July Sunday afternoon
I was your love and you were mine

On that July Sunday afternoon?
This always reminds me of that day
The baking sun beating down on
Our green table set for two.
We were younger then and drank
The Cahors elixir with relish
accompanied by the cigale chorus
that eventually lulled us to sleep.

The touch or your outstretched hand,
The clink of our glasses to health
And wealth and everlasting love?
My God I miss those longed for days!
Sometimes I wonder if this mysterious
Life might be a Groundhog day
And somehow we will do it all again.

I don't think I would mind, you know.
Just as long as I do it with you.

© Griffonner 2025