Mistaken over a glass of juice,

saw drinking behind a glass-door

it was one fine afternoon, time

for siesta post the sunny noon

a peaceful mountain valley lives

around the hut, with abundant

trees and birds, twittering since

the time of dawn. Saw throats

moving sip by Sip enjoying the

flavour and tongues Swiping the

remnant of taste from Smiling lips,

heard the echoes of aahs in

appreciation, over that passionate

shade of red juice. In shadows

I witness the scene, at last there

were empty wine glasses. On

haunches I find myself walk to

attraction. The aroma it was not

but a stench. My aged being

recognizes the smell, glass slid

down my right hand, Pouring

left one drop on white carpet

It was blood. One fine afternoon

mistaken over a glass of juice.

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