Sonnettic Wine

Gewürztraminer doesn’t taste as sweet
As Riesling, but it tastes like wine that knows
The way to make a poet’s night complete
By altering the way his sonnet flows
The alterations trapped within his glass
Taste richer than the words he likes to use
He’s drunk enough to kick somebody’s ass!
But writing is the act he’ll choose to choose
His rhymes will flow like grapes that have been pressed
And left to fermentation’s witless voice
His metaphors and similes are stressed
And yet, he has to drink; he has no choice
Unless he wants the words around his head
To fly away tonight while he’s in bed.