And a Goblet of Wine

If I had the time, I’d write about a goblet of wine, wine dark and red. I’d describe the room I now imagine myself in, a room with stone walls. On the walls hang tapestries as red as the wine. I sit near a large fire. Deerskin rugs warm the floor. The room is heavy with shadows, shadows that hide my sword and shield. I rest, sipping the wine slowly. Tomorrow, with steel in hand, I’ll take the wood. There’s a beast about.


2 thoughts on “And a Goblet of Wine

  1. Beautifully done. The “blood” imagery is so present throughout, yet never gory. His courage and acceptance of his inevitable responsibility come through powerfully — dominating the whole without your ever really saying anything about them. You’ve written a volume here in these few words.


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