Sweet Whiskey

I almost simply used my post from yesterday: On the Backs of Vagabonds but thought that was taking the easy road, so I’ll try something new today…

Together, we laugh long into the night

Between clouds of smoke and half-empty glasses

Dreaming of things that could and might

Taking a clock and feeding it molasses

Tic toc tic toc, every second’s bite

Is bitter, and nips at our mustaches

Like King Midas’s touch, except it’s not gold

More like the silver moonlight on a lake

At midnight, the water’s bitter cold

Cuts quick to the chase, leaves you with a quake

Shall we quake ever dreaming dreams untold

Or shall we, our own dreams, make

What’s life, after all, if not to dream

And what are eyes if they don’t gleam

With ghosts of the past and things yet to be

 

One for the young

And one for the old

One for the fading

And one for the bold

One for the father

And one for the son

One empty chamber

And one smoking gun

 

So together, we laugh long into the night

Between clouds of smoke and half-empty glasses

Dreaming of things that could and might

Taking a clock and feeding it molasses

Tic toc tic toc, every second’s bite

Is sweet whiskey on our mustaches

Droll

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