Kirkwood Wine Stroll

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
Here in the golden hour of May 2022,
on Wisteria Way, the azaleas bloom heavy,
their scent tangling with the spill of pinot noir.
You, my glass, cradled in palm,
catch the last light, amber and forgiving.
We stroll from porch to porch,
Hosea L. Williams Drive humming underfoot,
neighbors on Oakview Road wave us in.

[Chorus]
Oh, wine glass, vessel of this slow ritual,
hold the stories of Kirkwood's late spring,
the clink against a stranger's rim,
the warmth of 75 degrees on skin.
You carry the merlot from Le Petit Marché,
the chardonnay poured on a folding table,
draped in white cloth, under exposed rafter tails.

[Verse 2]
Remember 2017, that yard on Oakview,
fake grapevines twisting over trellis,
fooling us into vineyard dreams.
Now, the sun dips, 6:00 PM shadow long,
and we pause at the bungalow on Howard Street,
where Bessie Branham's legacy whispers through the leaves.
Your stem cool against my fingers,
as laughter rises like bubbles in prosecco.

[Bridge]
In this glass, the neighborhood's pulse,
from Pratt-Pullman ghosts to festival tents,
but tonight, it's just us, strolling,
porch light to porch light,
the event's map forgotten in pocket.

[Verse 3]
By 7:30 PM, the air cools,
sticky humidity lingers on neck,
we toast to the Kirkwood Neighbors Organization,
to the unnamed hosts who open their yards.
You, empty now, reflect the first stars,
promising another May, another slow walk.

[Outro]
Goodnight, my glass, rest on the sill,
until the next golden hour calls.