I snatched a bottle of red wine from the cellar.
It was a deep burgundy and the glass was cool to my touch.
We smuggled it away in my cloth sack buried beneath my towel.
It was the heat of the day and the call of the water that spurred us on.
The mud was treacherous and the insects were irritating,
And our cargo was at once fragile, satisfying, but expendable.
Swimming across the cold, clear salty waters was uncomfortable, but invigorating.
Under the protective shade of my favourite tree we lay there savouring its bitter fruity experience.
Her blonde hair stood out against the cool, grey sand that surrounded my tree.
Each sip she took was graceful, it was elegant, and it was soothing.
As if by magic the bitterness disappeared upon reaching her lips,
The red liquid transformed into something more, something sweet.
I savoured the taste, and welcomed the change.
It was a fine year.