I sip upon my wines of dust
that have been aging in this
room of mine.
I breathe in their scents and
savor their tastes;
the comfort that they give.
and yet the later tinge come
morning, from taking far too
much in.

So I'll let old habits die hard.

and tabletops they sparkle,
now, with my reflection shining
back at me. I wonder while I
see myself, does this mirror
here have more room than just
for me? two plates and settings,
I'll make for it some new company.