Noble Rot

History grown upon a vine.
Yesteryear drinkable as wine.

Pruned by living & swift events.
Trestled stone, wood, then wire fence.

Grapes drunk on sun, seasons & age.
Fresh fruit plucked from gnarled wizened stage.

Bottled for winters, weddings, wars.
Finely aged behind monied doors.

Time’s ineffable taste is bled.
The past distilled in drops of red.

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lbstowe

I see the world through a Painter’s eyes and process it with a Poet's Heart....it's quite a harsh place for the soul. It scratches and wears your true self down, at times, but the Beauty is Addictive. I feel for everyone I encounter. Everyone I encounter is a teacher if I'll let them be. I Empathize with everyone I talk to & I Think about Everything-LEVi

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