Dear Diary,
I have something to say
But won't tell you in a prosaic way.
Some evenings glide away so fine,
While others,
Tricks of the mind, malign.
I recall yesterday, starting a quest,
I think it over, but oh,
It's the wine's bequest!
Those days of yore, so beautiful and grand,
The ones
You thought were truly grand.
And now, as the shore is far from here,
Suddenly, memories
Ring loud and clear.
A crowded haven for countless thought,
The more you ponder,
The less they're sought.
Come! Everyone,
Gather near,
Don't ask why, let's shed our fear.
I retrace my steps,
Take one more sip,
Thoughts become a river, on they skip.