Slow, it's so slow
The collecting of the pieces
One of each so delicately chosen
For the slow passage to your body
Passing through your lips and
Oh, one last note for the conversation
You, watching you, and the ritual begins
It's ancient and it's all brand new
And you chew on the words and works of labour
Given, oh so willingly
To your tongue, and your contemplation
I, all my life, have been aching just to feed you
To eat from how you hold your sides
Filled and wider and willing to be
I watch you as you find your wine
And draw a smile in the condensation
