Keep me in your house, let me live among the things you love or your deepest secrets, stow me in your emergency kit so that the day the rest of your world collapses I will be there, ready for you, like that old wine in your cellar. When you visit the cellar, choose the younger ones in a dim light, turn me a quarter, and keep me for that special occasion. Then will you dust me with your gentle wind as from a seashell, and your caresses revealing a name a birthmark an age. Then will you open me, pour my well-aged nectar in your crystal glass and observe me in the candlelight. Pass my delight to your nose, breathe into my labyrinth, inebriate your soul as I encounter the tip of the lip of the tongue lost curling in a wave a tide even unforeseen by a moon watchful of the last tears. Keep me in your house, let me live in the expectation of that day.