Ode to Wine (Pregnant Sorrow)

Wine. Oh, wine.

Thou art so fine.

If I weren’t knocked up,

You would be mine (all the time).


Your flavor so inviting.

Your aroma so sweet.

God knows I could use you,

Whilst my beloved rubs my swollen feet.


Our estrangement is so unjust.

Life without you, unfair.

Nine months of separation,

With two other children- much to bear.


Alas, there is life inside me.

Growing, changing every day.

Sober, stressed, and wound-tight

Is how I shall stay.


When we are reunited,

What a reunion that will be.

I’ll drink you all in, but only a glass

– or three.


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