Bottle in the Sea

By Garland

When you are a bottle.

40 years flies quickly past.

Not necessarily true.

For the sailor who emptied you.

 

Through tropical typhoons.

The whipping wind.

The crashing rain.

The stones you missed.

 

You, you survived intact

to tell the young sailor’s tale

as he and the girl walked

hand in hand along the beach

 

On that leisurely island weekend

40 years ago, and placed a note

with their names and the date

deep inside of you

 

Before hurling you into

the deep western sea.

 

For he was the writer

of his note, the paper now

slightly stained, the names now.

Somewhat smudged.

 

And you were the holder

of the song they sang,

You, now covered with

the trappings of the great sea:

 

Shelled sea creatures

cling tightly to your surface.

Green plants that grow

only in the sea.

 

The sailor, having long since

sailed on to other beaches

and other girls has long since

forgotten about you.