And there we

Sat aging gathering

Dust waiting for

Our turn me

In a humidor

And you on

A shelf sometimes

Picked up studied

But always placed

Back to wait

Neither of us

Knowing each other

Until one snowy

December night when

We met you

Silky slightly tart

Hinting of pepper

Easy on tongue

A highland malt

And me robust

Smoky with hints

Of oak and

Acorn a maduro

And finally meeting

On the sideboard

My ash gray

Your bottle half

Empty thoroughly enjoyed