by Michael Keeling
I like the thought of the bottle
As it bobs through the ocean of hope,
Controlled by uncontrollable forces
With destiny pulling the rope.
Who knows of the message it carries
Or where it is meant to end;
And what of the person who finds it,
Have they too a message to send?
So I’m putting the cork in the bottle
And throwing it out to sea;
The message inside reads something like this:
Will you be home for tea?!