Monday, August 30, 2010
To all the ones we left behind
who pray for us at supper time
and hang their clothes out on the line
and watch the time as it slips away
I hope you read these words I wrote,
a sentimental scrolled up note.
I threw the bottle
watched it float
then I watched it til it disappeared.
Beside the water stands a man
he holds a bottle in his hand
he pops the cork
wipes off the sand
he reads the words
but doesn't understand.
A tiny ship that doesn't float
its sails made from a crumpled note
and balsa wood and superglue
in a bottle that has sailed the blue.
It sits there on the mantle top
the logs shift and the fire pops
the ocean breeze, the ticking clock
a final breath
a heartbeat stops