It tastes like cherries and sadness
With just a hint of despair
The plum notes contain certain madness
that releases when it breathes the air
The body is quite melancholy
It lingers with a pronounced dread
To drink it would be total folly
Let it age well like any good red
When you try it, I'm sure you'll agree
It has a distinctive bouquet
that tickles the nose with ennui
from terroir with a subtle dismay
Grown on a most morose vine
These grapes make a very fine w(h)ine.
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Challenge, All In the Family in which we were to ask for a poetic first line from a family member and then write the rest of the poem. This first line came from my daughter, Baby Mouse (17).