I hold your most precious memories tight, Yet I never saw the original sight. I have four borders but not a single state, Displaying the moments that you celebrate.

I roll, hold, store, stack, and fall-though inside is not where I'd want to be. Alcohol loves me, when made from oak, charred for bourbon, but only used once. Stories are told of waterfalls braved, with fools inside and no brains saved.

I bend and stretch but never break At times I'm a warrior, a camel, or dog Too much of me and your body may ache But just enough will clear up your fog

I’m neither place nor drink nor code - Yet I am all three, Depending on how you summon me. Who am I?

I purr in part, yet swim in disguise, A whiskered lie with borrowed eyes. Not what I seem when the lines are cast, I wear a mask where truth should last