The Winepress Of Retrospect Poem by Benjamin Mitchell

Aged to perfection, over years
Of bottling sorrows and fears:
Sweet Sadness breaks the heart and makes it possible to mend.

Whines pressed from our own grapes of wrath
-though less than half of that He hath-
Can still please the palate; teach the heart to beat again

So many go with rueful grin
And nurse this tonic with some gin
Finding solace sunken at the bottom of a glass.

By and by, so do I
Stare into the summer sky
And drink in Sorrow's sweet liquor distilled from the past.