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
