Love Is Like Bringing Home The Guinness Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Love is like bringing home the Guinness, not the bacon.
Pour halfway, then add the rest.
To see if it won't glisten with a full head.
It's a velvety warmth from the first sip to the last.
Like God was in the making of it
And was generous enough to hand over a full tanker.
Of just what you are hankering for.

Love is a near-happy-ever-after.
If you've done at least a few, and laughter fills the room to the rafters.
And you cosy up by the fire, and there are fireworks in the air.
And a gentle hand pulling you aside, leading you upstairs.

But don't get me wrong, I still enjoy a bit of pork crackling on the side.