my dear friend beer
i am never alone
as long as beer
is nearby
whether she be
in the refrigerator
or at the corner store
after a long day at work
i try to recall
the night before
wonder if any beer
is left before i stop
to buy some more
at happy hour
my friends say
final final final
as we clank
our frosty mugs
to toast another round
when life is less bright
i cry in my beer
and swallow my tears
but when life is grand
i raise my hand
to give praise with a beer
some say heaven
there is no beer
but i say
to hell with that
please bury me
with six pack in hand
august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved






I can only comment that with Cheers ๐ love this poem.
Thanks, Bjรถrn, cheers!
Am NOT a beer drinker but love this. Can see and hear the frosty glasses clink. ๐
Thanks, Bonnie. Cheers.
Like the poem, but not a fan of beer drinking.
Thanks so much, Lola ๐
I don’t like beer either, but my husband does, occasionally, so your poem resonates! Love it! Cheers! ๐
Thank you for visiting my poetry blog. ๐