Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

The Sip

                    “I bring an unaccustomed wine” _Emily Dickinson


“I bring an unaccustomed wine,” said she.
Sneaking in, I peeked at the locked door
of her wine cellar. She laughed at me
and shook her head, for I’m known to spill
my drink--rare, fancy, or cheap.
“Taste this one!” She offered me a sip
from her own chalice, and ever since,
I am smacking my lips.

Prompt: the need for wine or beer