The Taste Of Wine

I’ve got a good taste
in my mouth
it’s gone to my mind

must be the wine,
sure feels fine.
Montana Benmorven.

It drowns the self
grey clay falls away
soul entombed within,
now free to leave.

I look, searchingly
as I find, compellingly
I must go back.

The winds still
calling me.
And I am gone.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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