Magical is my thirtieth book of poetry. It includes the poem Wine. Wine,
a glass of wine, and then another in the evening time,
as I bemoan the loss of you,
an ex-love of mine to a friend of mine,
and what a time to unwind,
with a good friend and patient company,
and I try not to cry,
I try not to cry,
but such is life,
and I wish I knew why,
but love is a devil,
and it has bedevilled me,
far too many times,
and this is the end of time,
the ending of time for us,
the ending of our relationship,
but I wish I knew why,
and here,
I am alone with,
bemoaning the loss of you,
to a friend of mine,
with a glass of wine,
oh, teardrops and wine,
and the aftermath of love,
the decimation of love,
the shattered heart,
a broken dream,
a thought,
that makes you want to scream,
oh, the pain that cuts you open,
as you reflect on what went down,
and here I sit, with your patience,
as I go over,
the brutality of love,
the devilry,
that beguiles me so easily,
and that so easily breaks your mind,
with a
