Words From The Infinity...

My glass...

When we will date,
I'd be called a drunkard
Like the prelude to a chorus in the crystal flute
Whispers of the bubbles slowly fade
Fancying the delicate string of pearls,
I stand sedate
The zeal shattering into fragments of gold
Warm and radiant with the wealth of joy
With the richness of velvet in its taste
In every sip,
I'd feel the vigor of ages
From the opening pop to the fizz in my glass
I'd savor every move even with my eyes closed
For you would be my glass of champagne...