Of two drinks

Earl Grey sat before me

But at my core

I felt for robust and not full bodied.

The proverbial dark knight

that fills with charge

And yet sometimes leaves

unsatisfied.

Of bean and roast and brew

Not one who leaves when drawn

Not of Ceylon, Twinnings or Bigelow

While for the Earl

I do sometimes yearn

Not today

And maybe not tomorrow

You may, you may, you may

Have had your turn.

Stronger aromas beckon

Which may not deliver with taste

Whose fragrance is great

But may not in an instant deliver

The nuance you hold

Of drinks I think of you two

One drawn and sitting

The other maybe for brew

Of Blue Mountain

Or Moorish fields

The highs and lows

of moments say more than I care to

There is pleasure in the pace

Both holding their own space

Without either to another place

One sparking flame

The other making tame

A tale of two drinks

And maybe more

For as you may know

Its a tale of four

And this the thing

For one the writing

Of which has not been fun

A Napa wine

To drunken writer

But say what of it

Making redder or whiter

Of Grigio or Noir

The thirst not quenched

Without every pour.