Our Glass

 

 

I see it poised and looming large before me, our glass,

    Its timeless question luring me, the same old pull;

       And long to drink deep from this demitasse,

             The half that brims with life, half-full.

                   A draft to quench my thirst,

                                So raise it to

                                    My lips,

                                       Ah!

                                    In Sips?

                              As tipplers do?

                    One draft! and not the first

              Devine uplifting draft, half-beautiful,

       I’ve longed to drink, Life’s balming sassafras;

     And not the first glass that, upon my slaking pull,

 I found to be the holey grail half–empty–of our glass.