poetry

NaPoWriMo #11

Tonight we drink
of elixirs that rise
from each of us.
We feast
for a moment
ten minutes
an hour.
Who knows how long we have.
Who cares how much wine we bring to the table.
Tonight we feast
like only lovers can.
In the morrow, we grab our swords and fight.
One day, we’ll make the journey home again.

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