Ode To My Carafe

Carafe, leftover from my past,
With grapevine and doves etched on the glass.
Once holding white wine in San Diego apartments
So many, many years ago.

I was so young then,
Too young, too naive.
Barely ready, barely trained
For life, love, and the world.

Oh, how the white wine did flow,
(along with the bourbon and the whiskey,
and the rum and the tequila!)
A river of youth I am all too
Happy to have survived.
Now it holds fresh filtered water bedside.