In the stillness of night, she lay in her bed, With a glass of red wine, close at hand, she sipped. Her worries and stress, with each swallow, they shed, As the warmth of the drink, slowly, her heart gripped.

The light of the moon, shone through the window’s glass, casting a soft glow, upon her peaceful face. Her hair spread out, like a fiery, fiery mass, As she lost herself, in this private, intimate place.

The wine in her hand, a symbol of her release, From the worries of life, and its constant demand. With each sip, she finds, a moment of peace, As she embraces, this simple, yet elegant, act of self-command.

And so she lay there, in her bed with her wine, With a sense of contentment, that only it can bring. For this moment of solace, she’ll always be fine, And the memories of it, will forever cling.