Old Wine

Every memory of your first love is like that of old wine,
With time they only get valued more, and you wouldn’t mind paying a good price to have a sip.
I met some old friends last summer and he happened to be there
and just like an old bottle of wine,
I could see how beautiful he was in all his vigor and pride.
Standing tall, knowing he was crafted for nobility.
He had ruffled brown hair and an attractive stubble, I watched his vein clad arms as he steered away in his SUV.
He held himself quite well though I was the only one who could see the little bubbles inside him as he tried to smile at me.
I smiled back.
No, I Hardly smiled. (Though I wanted to)
It’s funny now because we used to laugh at things that no one else found funny.
Old wine is expensive and you need to possess a certain kind of class to own one, which is why I was happy just to watch him from afar


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