As I drank
the vintage matured:

As you, it slowly opened,
revealing its power.

As you, it filled my nostrils
with its perfume.

As you, it reached a peak,
and fell

as you, of a sudden,
into bitter residue.

If I could decant time,
straining out all risk and all decline,
I could match the food of life
with your darkly bottled wine.