the amount of wine he left in the bottle
   was minimal
        it was almost nothing.
he spoke of the vineyards
                visited in France
                  sometimes he was the only guest,
a table was set just for him.
         i could picture him feeling like
                                        a prince or king,
                                       tasting an elixir, 
smiling widely as he swallowed the magic.

we talked for several hours
            remembering acoustical wonders
                                   where he played and i sang
                                   music had held us very close
                                   to each other
now we were joined by a thin vapor
                      a fragile remembrance
next day when i drank the remaining wine
              i smiled and tasted our good fortune