WINE THOUGHTS

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When all that is left hangs on

Memory’s threads,

Threads far richer in number,

Than the fair hairs of your head.

Which of those memories shall I dwell on?

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Will it be the moment when the moonbeam,

Paused upon your lovely face,

When my tongue was stilled by your eyes,

Or love words breathed as passions died?

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When each idle thought stills time

As moments passed,

And such thoughts are wine thoughts,

More than I could ever count.

Which thought will pierce my heart?

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The joy and hope that greet the starting,

Sad regrets of final parting?

Who knows where love lanes twist and lead?

Whose hearts will rise, whose hearts will bleed?

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Mícheál Walsh Romantic Poetry

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