Cherish

This poem is definitely unfinished, but if I ever revise it it will become a completely different poem.

I was built to record, and listened to an old man

Who spoke of a glass of champagne

“Oh,” he said, “If only I had sipped slowly!”

But, while drinking, the first drop’s flavor had lingered in his throat

Leaving the rest of the sips dulled

Until his only experience was rancid broth

And that was the taste of the champagne, guzzled quickly

But the memory brings him so much joy

“Slowly sip all your champagne, children”

“You do not know when it is good.”