Wine-o-Clock

She sprawls upon a velvet sea, 
A vision born from artistry. 
Brushstrokes blend in amber light, 
Her form aglow, her grip held tight. 

A crystal glass, a ruby swirl, 
She sips, she sighs—a painted girl. 
Dripping gold in drowsy hue, 
A fleeting dream in cobalt blue. 

Soft as clouds, the cushions keep 
Her lazy limbs in liquid sleep. 
Gilded grapes and laughter pour, 
Yet time won’t wait forevermore. 

With dawn’s first touch, she melts away, 
Back to canvas, cool and gray. 
But whisper low and pour her deep— 
At wine-o-clock, she’ll wake from sleep.

~SRC

Wine-o-Clock

She sprawls upon a velvet sea, 
A vision born from artistry. 
Brushstrokes blend in amber light, 
Her form aglow, her grip held tight. 

A crystal glass, a ruby swirl, 
She sips, she sighs—a painted girl. 
Dripping gold in drowsy hue, 
A fleeting dream in cobalt blue. 

Soft as clouds, the cushions keep 
Her lazy limbs in liquid sleep. 
Gilded grapes and laughter pour, 
Yet time won’t wait forevermore. 

With dawn’s first touch, she melts away, 
Back to canvas, cool and gray. 
But whisper low and pour her deep— 
At wine-o-clock, she’ll wake from sleep.

~SRC

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