Soft on the tongue it’s like first kisses,
The flavors become strong taste forces,
Oak and smoke are weak,
as is the taste, peat.
This Scotch still does come out delicious.

Burned swamp pours out of this drink,
As you smell, you’re prompted to think,
It’s nose is so strong,
Perhaps I did choose wrong,
Inhaling this makes my eyes blink.

But then this Scotch touches your tongue,
And those wrong thoughts all come undone,
Its flavor is fine,
And just maybe, divine,
Bartender, please pour more than one.

The smell of this scotch overpowers,
My noses’ detection of flowers,
But the taste is so smooth,
And soft like vermouth,
With pinched nose I will drink it for hours.

Written at Park Inn by Radisson, Heathrow Airport, London, UK.