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Glory Days
I sip and swish you like the finest wine.
I savor each drop, making you mine.
Righteousness replaces my malaise.
Isn't this what they call glory days?
Then a caveat, an asterisk, a second guess,
A flurry of half-disclosed ruminations,
And I've sound reason to fear you're designed to regress,
Avoiding any and all declarations.
You slide our joy under the microscope.
My wisdom to not question the fates
Is not shared, your inability to cope
A bona fide map to dire straits.
I turn and twist, barely touching my seat.
I pause to ponder where our two ends meet.
The specter of indecision now sways.
Have I trapped myself in a glory daze?
