Seventeen Sundays, my months of hell
Reaching out, but you're no longer there
I open the bottle of good Jack and Daniel's
Wanting to forget that you're no longer mine
But your name's on the label of my favorite wine
Seventeen Sundays, my months of pain
Endlessly hoping, but you never came
I turn on the radio and choose a good song
Wanting to forget and ease out this pain
But your voice is still singing in the falling rain
Of sweet Valentines, of chocolates and lime
Of me in the red dress, as we stay way past nine
Of dancing and dining while the moon rises high
Of drowning in kisses and all the sweet time
When my name's on the label of your favorite wine
Of letters, of phone calls that filled all our time
Mom and Dad scolded us but we didn't mind
Of the piano serenades you played every night
Of chess games played slowly while letting me win
Of times when love's perfect and life was a dream
Seventeen Sundays, sun shining and bright
The rays creep in yet I never feel warm
I know I must forget but still I can't help
To open a bottle of good Jack and Daniel's
Because your kiss is the taste of my favorite wine
Seventeen Sundays, the moon starts to rise
I put down this pen and turn off the light
Drying tears with the shirt which you left behind
I fall into slumber and dream of the time
When my name's on the label of your favorite wine.
YOU ARE READING
Seventeen Sundays
PoetryThis was written on a bad day, and I just wanted to write something. I'm not an alcoholic but I really really like wine, though I only drink it on special occassions. This poem was inspired by a bottle of Jack and Daniel's I found on the liquor stor...
