Relating: You are Fine Wine

To my mother on earth,

and to hers in the clouds:

You are fine wine.

Fine wine, fine wine.

You aged like fine wine.

From bud to blossom,

The drink of the vine,

You aged like fine wine.

Do not be tricked,

The skins of fine wine

are never new,

They are wrinkled

and blemished,

But inside is liquid gold.

And why should there be

a mold to hold you back

If you were meant

to change anyways?

With her skin she grows old:

Bloomed by the sun

of her youth,

Ripened from the years,

Skins stretched by maternity,

Fine wine, aren’t you beautiful

Fine wine, that’s what you are,

And I’ve always seen you

that way

And I’ve always seen you

as beautiful,

Because you taught me

what it meant

And I’d always believe

what you’d say.

You taught me that beautiful

Was a word that belonged

to God

And everything he made.

And He most definitely

made you

Beauty that not only

gets better with age.

You are the drink of the gods,

And the gods love your wine

That when you must leave us,

I’ll understand why.

I’ll stare at a chalice of fine wine

And I’ll know you’re with God

And he’s pouring you a glass,

So go ahead, drink and dine:

Enjoy that glass

Of fine wine.

I know why you had to leave,

Because your wine is too sweet,

So God took away your cup

Or I might get too tipsy

Of your fine wine.

Fine wine, fine wine,

I’ll miss your fine wine

So on that day

that we meet again,

I hope that I had

lived long enough

To make you proud

of my own wine.

That I had aged as well

as you did

That I am a fruit from your vine.

On the day that we meet again,

Let’s raise our cups,

Let’s laugh and smile,

Let’s have a glass

Of your fine wine.

(The poem by 15-year-old Arianna Yu won The Emily Dickenson Award during the Calliope Night of Paref Southcrest School Inc. on Nov. 16, 2018.)


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