Fermenting
by Foxes and Magnolias
By the furbelowing plants in the windowsill,
was the wine you poured for me, hardly afternoon,
growing warm with ample sun
from through the bay.
I wondered, while sitting
Tuesday, drinking
if some day
I’d be looking through linted pockets
to find remnants of you,
if one day the ring of wine stain
on the windowsill
would cause me to cry.
Foxes and Magnolias 
I love this. It makes me think that we really don’t realize what we have until it is gone. It reminds me to be present and take it in.
Moving poem. Long shadows and hoarfrost seem filled with those remnants of lost moments with lost ones. Keep writing.
THANK YOU!!!