From vineyard he came, filled with red
wine,
From sun fathered grape & tendrilled
soft vine,
Green bottled in bodega & in cellar,
cool stored,
Bought by imbibers & by fine diners
implored.
Wine supped bottle, now empty, sad &
discarded,
Last drop licked off rim & by tramps
disregarded,
Now kicked upon cobbles, so far from jade
vine,
No longer man´s friend, nor of ruby blood
wine.
Green bottle now lonely, within its silica
yearning,
A message it´s entrails, tossed on waves
churning,
All that´s now left, its crystal soul to be
smashed,
In smithereens, upon foreign rocks, to be
crashed.
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