Port on a Port Wine Table

Port on a port wine table
A bistro by any other name
Wouldn’t be half as sweet

Have another slug of Dow’s Late Vintage

How sweet it is with tea biscuits
Irresistible as they are I sample each
Some more than once – I can’t help it

This evening should last longer

The sun sets on time every night
Nothing can stop it or the seasons
Time passes irrevocably

We exist in the present moment

Every taste of port and biscuit
Can last for an eternity or an instant
Solely dependent on savouring the moment

Pass the bottle

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Filed under Philosophy, Poetry

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