Syrah
Low notes and high notes, lots of character...
Syrah Some say She sat down and saw her own smile like coins in the mirror. Her thin approximations holding safe velvet belongings. With lingering rubies from the hearth, this Queen of spices taunts them with spades they cannot name. She teases with raspberry eyes and pepper skin. Some say that Her cedar chest knew more of her bed than any else who sought its measure and instead slept at its foot. Take only a moment to sup this smoke grown flower, left on a sill, then pressed beneath a page.
Sean, you are wonderful poet. “Syrah,” is a beautiful and evocative poem that was reminiscent of some of Tennyson’s works. You did a terrific job giving us a metaphoric description of the elusive Syrah as, with your clues, my imagination created her surroundings. Thank you.