As I sit in silent contemplation

I muse…

When Old Father Time comes rolling around

Will he offer me another glass of wine?

Or, will he inform me that the vineyard is now arid,

The grapevine dried up?

 

If the second be the case

Will I kneel before him and supplicate?

Will I throw my dignity to the wolves,

And beg for the crimson nectar?

 

Or, will I surrender to my fate?

As the wave surrenders to the ocean

And is consumed in its vastness

 

The sun goes down

The moon rises

 

There comes a knock at the door

“Who is it, and what do you want?” I shout.

Came the reply…

“Tis I, Old Father Time.” (pause)

“I have a rather cheeky Shiraz…

I thought you might like to try it.”

 

The moon goes down

The sun rises

Photo by Maria Orlova: https://www.pexels.com/photo/wine-pouring-into-wineglass-from-bottle-4946455/