She tastes like wine
in my mind, though we 
never got that close.
Even when she held me, 
it was at a distance. But 
when I sip 
either white or red,
sweet or bitterly dry,
I think of the way
her eyes sparkle 
when she laughs.
So, I hold her image
in my mind and drink
in remembrance 
of her. And I avoid
the bread, so the rush 
of blood goes
to my head, and I float
away, adding another thorn
to the crown.