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Adopted Son
http://www.thelandofgrimney.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=452
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Author:  Redvilst [ Sat Aug 20, 2011 8:52 am ]
Post subject:  Adopted Son

He is no Chateau La Fete,
Well bred and schooled
In web-woven cellars.
By label and not flavour
Known as Prince of wines.
Its cork will never be drawn,
So its position is guarded
By a name and a year.

Though others sowed the vine
I trod the grapes that made him.
My soul drinks him in
While he is Beaujolais.
An old vintage and a good year
May be past my tasting.

I’m getting sparkle
And youth
And south slopes of Heighington.
I’m getting vigour, and
There is eagerness
To be free of the bottle.
A zing in simply being.
It’s heady and warms my heart.

And all this in so short a season
Will come to vinegar.
Bacchus - you bastard!

But a wine is made to be tasted,
And a life is to be lived
No rich label to hide behind.
No cool cellar can I provide.
The world must judge you as you are.
Wear this label with my pride.

Author:  Nydas [ Sat Aug 20, 2011 10:18 am ]
Post subject:  Re: Adopted Son

This is beautiful, the metaphor works so well.
Really moving.
*silent tear*
:)

Author:  Elvira [ Sat Aug 20, 2011 2:40 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: Adopted Son

Love.
That's what it's all about really.
Wonderful words, thanks!

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