Toasting True Quality
by cricketjeff on November 8, 2011. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
When weary words are all that still remains
Of siren songs that once soothed savage seas
And photographs replace each windowpane
With memories of trees that danced the breeze.
When gas-frothed cream ejected from a can
Is all we taste on sterile apple pies,
And Emmental made well must face a ban
Because its holes aren’t sliceable that size.
We’ve lost our way, forgotten who we are,
We’re part of life, not lords of all we see.
It takes hard work to be the brightest star
And Gangsta Rap is not great poetry.
A single malt when aged for thirty years
Gives meaning to that age-old toast of “cheers!”
English