A vintage wine's a precious gift! We see how much remains,
can tease the tongue and ration it (and plumb life's glass's curves) ,
fermented taste that knows no bounds (like one who's drunk on life)
where naked feet that brave sea's edge would dance like Fred Astaire) .
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Wow a poem in fine metaphor, of love and fab muses. Kudos! ! ! Plz do read and comment my newest poem too titled, 'mini earthquake experiences'