Fine poetic wine

Reading great poetry is so much like enjoying fine wine, you read each word slowly, turn the liquid around in your mouth, savour the pauses, the aroma, fine-tune into the nuances, let it gently down the throat, let it seep into you. And then after a while you read it again like having a second glass, and then you catch hidden nuances that you missed before, as it slowly reveals its secrets to you. It somehow tastes different on your tongue, beats a softer beat on your heart. And for a long time you sit in the afterglow, feeling warm inside, enthralled by the beauty, oblivious to everything else.