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Happy Hour

I received a vintage bottle
of wine, from a time gone past;
each time it tastes much sweeter
erasing "quick"! The drop 'twas last.

~

At the present, I'm indulging
my parched throat to a stout, ale "gift";
'twas from my hairdresser/mechanic,
guess she thought I needed a lift.

~

As I "age" my own proclivity
has me leaning away from beer,
and wine's too tempermental
causing a melancholy tear.

~

So, in my up & coming future
sour mash whiskey will do, "fine";
it's strength will erase that taste of ale,
not to mention, that sugary wine!

~

For in life's grandest scheme of things
I am no "quitter", won't even try;
hence, I'm forever cursed
to take libations "til I die !

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Oh ! PLluuuusssssssssssss.....there is no "denile" prevailent, in my family tree !
Editing stage: 

Comments

i 'take libations' every now and then, then i have 'the day after' to remind myself why i don't 'take libations'

this is fun
but i found it a bit offputting having it spread down the page as it is
i think it would have better timing if made into simple quatrains

nice rhythm and rhyme
love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

...I've made said adjustment, and I both concur, and I've corrected. Thanx for your kind words, and feedback.
Greatly appreciated;
sincerely,
doc.

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

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