Vintage

Draw deep into the well of your soul
pull me up some fine truth
a pittance ‘ere to drink, my friend


Dip the ladle far into the darkest fathoms
and dredge up a secret tale for me
to slake my thirst, so long sere and dry


Don’t be shy or stingy, my friend
for the sweetest wines lie in silent depths
and won’t be found by shallow tithing


Roll up your sleeves, bolster your courage
‘tis a fine deed, indeed, to lay draughts so dear
wither not, lest ye should come up wanting


Then tarry a moment ‘til I drink my fill
for it’s not by me that you’ll be forgotten
I’ve many a spirit to render unto ye


My ladle’s a bit rusty and the cup very small
but the handle’s long and sturdy and reaches far
the proof is the thing which intoxicates


The drink you’ll get, my friend, is a fine vintage
more precious than most, for it’s so rarely shared
I’ll wager you’ll not soon forget it’s taste


Together we’ll share our lives’ best pressings
we’ll toast each other, and others that we love
a noble, gentle thing that bides us well


Forget not our mothers and fathers before
their dreams became our histories
and we’d be naught without them


Raise a glass to family, both living and passed
not all cut from the same cloth, for sure
but each a part of the same, larger life quilt


And drink at the last to friends
those whom we choose to endear
and who forgive us our shortcomings in stride


Once more, we’ll tipple to each other
for, in this grand scheme, we know and understand
why we note our times and tides


At last, heads swimming, it’s time to go
we’ve drank the last drops tonight
and shall return to toast anew, my friend