Second Try

I think I am finally learning

how to write a poetry

You just write it as it is

a glass of

handmade wine

came from hundreds of kilometers away

Drinking it with a very young friend of mine

a childhood friend -very close-

she drops the glass and the carpet is full of wine

Then begs for mine

Not to forget

the classical music

plays silently

Everything tastes sour tonight

the memories

the music

and the wine

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