Yesterday’s wine

today’s tears

plonk down the river

if you please

with its winding reeds

and soaked up fields

marshes in the distance that can not breath

it wasn’t the wine you needed after all

yellow-greenish tint with the head sore

today’s cheap bottle of sadness that no one sees

getting stuck on the bend with mud and fleas

there’s your private river or wine

winding down, winding down.

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