A sip (NaPoWriMo day eleven)

A goblet sits in evening sky
Next to you my love I lie,
Take a sip my sweetest love
A quiet swallow from high above.
Tip my sweetness to your lip
A drop or two will always slip,
I lick the wetness from your chin
This loving night will soon begin.
A fine merlot or white will do
It all is good when sipped with you,
This goblet sits so empty now
So fill me up like milk from cow.
A grape I give with more to share
Love we make without a care.

Day eleven
And now, our prompt (optional, as always).Poets have been writing about love and wine, wine and love, since . . . well, since the time of Anacreon, a Greek poet who was rather partial to that subject matter. Anacreon developed a particular meter for his tipsy, lovey-dovey verse, but Anacreontics in English generally do away with meter-based constraints. Anacreontics might be described as a sort of high-falutin’ drinking song. So today I challenge you to write about wine-and-love. Of course, you may have no love of wine yourself, in which case you might try an anti-Anacreontic poem. Happy writing!