Dead Grapes

Fifty year old Bordeaux

A truly lovely bottle,

Travel back in time

See history of this wine

And be shocked at transformation.

Before alcohol

Before corks and bottles

Before oak casks

Is simply a mound of dead grapes.

Musn’t be afraid of death,

Only doorway

To another kind of life.

– Vagabond Prophet

Mulled Wine

How have your teeth

Not yet dissolved

Like sugar cubes

In sweet mulled wine?

How have your legs

Not yet gone brittle

From upholding

So fearsome a beauty?

How has your mind

Not yet shattered

From containing

Such brilliance?

How have your fingers

Not yet liquefied

From writing stories

Like a flash flood?

– Vagabond Prophet

I think I’m getting worse

Let it be as wine

Refining for a time.

Letting all bitterness

Bubble out

Hoping sweetness

Is left behind.

– Vagabond Prophet

-Wine

-Brownies

-Padlock

If you can guess why this was my shopping list today you can give me a prompt for a short story and I have to write it.

P.S. I am confident this won’t happen, also terrified by the ridiculous possible prompts.