The Mind of Poetry
Down It Goes
"Cheers to you," I say,
As I raise my glass up high.
The swaying of the red waves,
Twirl inside the walls of dry.
I lift the edge to my lips,
To taste the bitter sweet.
Tilting back the damp,
Journeying down with heat.
"MM," I sigh to myself,
As my eyes gradually close.
The ecstasy of the crimson flood,
Spreads down the path it goes.
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Down It Goes
Down It Goes
