Empty beach.

Waves roll in.

Waves roll back out.

Shells and stones dance about.

My footsteps disappear with every seaside step.

Mists dust my face, then fade.

Breezes dust me, then ease.

I stumble, reality engages.

I spy something.

Floating, bobbling.


A bottle.

Really, a bottle?

Really.  A crusted bottle.

A crusted bottle sealed tight.

With something inside, a note?

A twisted paper knotted with string?

A skeptic, I scan about for pranksters.

Solo, alone, childlike excitement takes over.

Splashing waist deep, it’s mine!

Eureka!  I’ve got it!

Shall I investigate?

Heck, yeah!


Twist hard!

Harder than that!

C’mon!   Mystery requires strength!

Tongue out, sweating some, POP!

Uncorked! What? The paper is dry?

My joy is utterly, combustibly complete!

Careful!  Hopes often overwhelm reality.

Still,  lost love’s musings?

Two words only.

“Yes, you.”


Remember, breathe.

Just for me.

A gesture from God.

A song from an angel.

A roadmap for my walk on.

I breathe, message received, time to oblige.

Message replaced, cork retrieved, twisted tight.

Returned to the sea, floating.

Readied for the next.

It says what?

“Yes, you.”












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