Ceramic Glass Ware

the last glass.

Family have requested that I support this again, I wrote this chronicle years ago.....


I started with twenty-four. Twenty-four Waterford wine spectacles. It was weeks before my bridal to the man I so arduously loved. Some were gifts from my household. Many were gifts from our friends. The azure boxes with frosty ribbon poured in parallel the wine group I so astutely built. I took each one out of the box, unwrapping their delicious tissue. The chardonnay spectacles with their spindled stems- as if in readiness to be caressed by the sophisticated palm and fingers. Waiting for the candlelight to let flow through, reflecting fantastic evenings. The cabernet spectacles with their wide mouths tarrying for a supple recompense. I could tilt the glass back to adapted the succulence in my lips. Lastly, my most cherished eight..the Bordeaux spectacles. They were the generals in my troops. The glasses were heavier in ponderousness yet far more elegant than the quiescence. I sat waiting for the not crooked vintage to originate my revolution.

I whimpered when I broke the first six. Three months after my nuptial festival to the man I thought I loved. The requiring great outlay vintage cluster began to grow less. In its place came the bottles that I found at a limited winery. Not a bottle from Georges Duboeuf, but some little wine. A big soiree, friends mingling around the fire. Forbidden produce poured endlessly by the gentle host, who was subsequently in the Garden of Eden herself. Tongues began to expand and emotions began to be in eruption. First went the chardonnays. Thrown with such lookout. Aimed straight at my beloveds noddle. There went two hundred dollars towards the refrigerator entrance. Tearfully, I swept up the shards of glass. But, alas there were eighteen more. I still had the reds. In my fight, I had lost a troupe but still had soldiers.

I cried when I broke the next four. In the seasonable light of bound, I reached for a glass. My coordination stifled by my stable imbibing. I poured a bottle of inexpensive cabernet into my lofty glass. I no longer...

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