Message in a Bottle
Covers strands,
I approach
The counter.
I poach
Strangers and
I am a skilled hunter.
He slides
A Foster's
Coaster:
"How can I help?"
I throttle
A yelp:
“Could you, please, pour me…
Poor me!
Out of my bottle?
Drifted ashore,
Buried in grains.”
By lipstick
I wore
I separate days.
I pick
Absolute Red.
The message remains
Unread.
Свидетельство о публикации №116122703534