Fleeting Art

In the dim glow, where shadows meet,
I toast to fleeting dreams and moments sweet.
A dance with time, in a drunken sway,
Borrowed bliss from tomorrow's fray.

The amber liquid, a lover's touch,
In each gulp, my care’s too much.
I steal from the future's treasure trove,
To feel alive, to feel above.

As the night grows old and whiskey flows free,
My thoughts echo in this spree,
Yet, within each drop, a hidden cost,
A future moment I've already lost.

But who cares for tomorrow's sigh,
In the warm glow of whiskey's sky?
I drink to love, to life, to loss,
To the present's fiery trust.

For in each pour, a truth unfolds,
Our hearts in stories, our souls in gold.
Drinking is but a fleeting art,
Borrowing happiness to start.