(Joel Jaffe)



I'm laying by the river, on a sunny afternoon

The glass of wine beside me, is the colour of the sun

Then the river moves inside me, and it all comes rushing back

There's something about drinking wine alone



I'm sitting at the table, staring at my plate

The meal I fixed so carefully, is wasted I can't eat

The first taste touched a place in me, I'm still afraid to find

There's something about drinking wine alone



There are traces of her waiting, in the place I least expect

A laugh, a sudden movement, a lighted cigarette

Am I hiding from the very thing, I tried so hard to find

There's something about drinking wine alone



I have wasted something precious, and it quickly slipped away

Like moonbeams through my fingers, as I turned the other way

Am I waiting for a miracle, or have I just been blind

There's something about drinking wine alone





(c) 1977 Whispering Wind Publishing Co.