oenophilia readometry

I notice your ‘Pinot Noir’ eyes.
I’m captivated. 

In the melancholic light
of the year’s last
no moon night,
you take me
by the hand
rushing through the vineyard.
And then you suddenly stop,
as if you found
you favourite spot
among the grapevines.
You turn around
and I see your luminous visage
smiling at me vivaciously.
I’m clueless
and yet, I can’t help
but smile back at you.
I’m sure it’s one of your spells.
I move close to you,
you turn back,
and further lead me through the rows
towards the winery.
Near the gates,
under the sodium vapour street lamps
as I get close to you
I notice your ‘pinot noir’ eyes.
I’m captivated.
I reach out.
I have to know
if you are real
or just a figment of
my many misty dreams.
I reach out some more.
And there you are.
Your cherubic face
rubs velvet-like against
my weather-beaten palms.
I am engulfed
in the red fruit, cherry aroma.
Is it you
or the barrel rooms nearby?
It must be you,
And I’m too close.
(Or am I?)
Our eyes play with light
and I sense mischief
behind yours.
You pull me close
And I taste
the fruity, earthy flavours
off of your grapey lips.
I long for more.
Oenophilia is it ? 

— Vik

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