Born of grain but never bread, I dance with bubbles, crisp but not dead. A liquid gold in frosted hold, I'm known to bring the brave more bold.

I’m sweet and cold, I love a swirl, I make you smile, boy or girl. I bring all the moods to the yard, With a straw, I’m soft, but I hit hard.

Within my mouth, the offering dies, Its bones left black beneath the cries. I whisper warmth in breathless air, While watchers linger, lost in stare.

I am known for a body of water, but I do not think you can swim in me. You might even avoid me altogether me.

I am red but not blood I am rare hard to find On a scale of one through ten, I am a nine