Crossing To The Island Where The Blessed Belong Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

Drink too quick as though this drink's the last
Drink up from what is past and taste regret
Drink down through what is left and what has passed
Drink deeper still - drink deeper to forget.

From dregs and froth the recollections pour
In loss and bitterness their flavours found
The thirsts of youth grown old and sour
A glass most-empty or a potion downed.

But think of when the glass was bright and full
A brimming bowl with zest and lust to rim,
With warmth that love, delight and friendship mull
Sweet draughts and quaffs that headiness makes trim.

With age the vintage grows too tart or strong -
Blend it with freshness savoured by the young -
And steer a middle course to best times wrong
Crossing to the island where the blessed belong.