If you stare into an ancient well
Or a night sky
The insides of a black hole
Liquid atoms in the deep black of a Guinness
Piercing flame blue
A crown of white/grey
Ministrations and labours
Twine in the whiskers
More free flowing than a tapped keg
Or a stream piercing Hadrian's wall
His generosity flows
Tending to the wounds of Bohemian poets
Pink lipped and baby faced
Pale complexion of Australian kids
Who yearn to write
Idealise him
Wish to know the secrets of a homeland
They will never truly know
His gait is imbibed as he climbs the stage
His voice swirls like deep barley
Rising to crescendo
The blue flames in his eyes
The incantation in his pint
Out comes years of emotion
In a perfect lilting Scottish baritone
- Thomas W Richardson
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