~The Poet’s Poet~
My taste buds were bursting
You stood there, temptingly
Devils brew?
NO, Golden Nectar
Pint sized
Black with a Bishops collar
Perfectly turned out
Mine, yes my pint of stout
Reaching out
I clasped you tight
Lifted you from the bar counter
Slowly I drew you too my lips
Paused
Took one more admiring glance
Then
One large swallow
Replaced you on the bar
It may be winter
But one swallow never made a summer
A nod in the direction of the barman
A companion was on the way
Black with a Bishops collar
Golden nectar.
© Chris Black. January 2019
#Poetry #amwriting #Guinness #Bishops collar a reference to the creamy head on a pint of Guinness.
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