He Drank Red Red Wine

I was in the bar when I saw the old man come in

with walking stick he shuffled into the bar

a couple of waitresses came over to help him

he shuffled slowly- each arm held steady by a waitress

as he shuffled to a table way in the back

"His favourite table"- another waitress said to me.

He sat down slowly- very slowly- and winced with pain 

as he did so.

He sat there with great pain etched on his face.

A waitress brought him a half-litre of red wine

and a glass-

red red wine.

He sipped the red red wine

with each sip the grimace of pain

lessened but was still there.

Probably not all the red red wine in the world

could ease the pain etched on his face.

He drank the red red wine.

"Red red wine makes me feel so fine" 

went a song I recalled hearing as a kid

a song sung by some Caribbean singer

whose name I've forgot-

"red red wine makes me feel so fine".

But the red red wine did not make

the old man fine.

He drank the red red wine to

ease the pain.

"Red red wine makes me feel so fine"

the song went

but he... drank the red red wine to ease the pain.

Red red wine to ease the pain...

is that why in an Upper Room in Jerusalem 2000 years ago

Someone lifted up a cup of red red wine

and said, "This is MY blood"

to ease all OUR pain?

Red red wine

the old man drank red red wine 

to ease the pain.

When he had finished

he shuffled out of the bar

his face still etched with pain.

Into the night he went

most likely home.

Was a bottle of red red wine waiting there

to ease the pain?

And the day the old man no longer shuffles into the bar

but shuffles off his mortal coil

will he have anyone left to toast his memory

in a glass of red red wine?

-A poem written by Christopher

 Friday evening March 8th 2013.