Oh, Vodka!
How I pine for thee.
For a man with no money,
cannot drink his Lady!

I miss your burn,
your delicate palate,
that crack as the bottle opens.

I miss the intoxicating aroma,
and the weight of the glass.

It always starts the same:
I wash my glass,
then pour my Lady.
When I pick up the glass,
I hold it to my lips,
slowly tilt,
and breathe you in.

You suffuse my being,
warming me,
making love to me.

That first sip,
I just let linger
on the tip of my tongue,
and feel that burn.

I slowly swallow,
then wallow.
I soulfully drink,
as you fill me with joy.

By the last sip,
I’m begging for more.

I love you, Lady Vodka,
and surely one day,
I shall have you again.