Not why, what, where or when but how we love beer.
I love thy glass through its depth and breadth and height
And gentle beads of condensation when in need of a ‘light’
For the lack of bitterness and its ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet pint o’ Mild, lit by sun or candlelight.
I love thee freely, tho’ a sour lambic may make me ail
I love thee purely, bless the Union and its fine Pale Ale.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In matching with curry, chocolate or cheese.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
When I crossed to the dark side – I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my adult life! – and, if God choose,
I shall but love thy biney hoppiness after death.
*With most profuse apologies to Elisabeth Barrett Browning. She deserved better.
©Beer Tinted Spectacles, January 2013