The Message in a Bottle | Teen Ink

The Message in a Bottle

December 31, 2012
By Sam_Dawn_Richi SILVER, Augusta, Georgia
Sam_Dawn_Richi SILVER, Augusta, Georgia
9 articles 0 photos 25 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning dance in the rain." -anonymus

Adrift in the curling blue waves,
Floating and bobbing away,
From the place it came.

Its green glass
Is holding fast
As the green sea
Brushes against it.
Pushing quietly.

Over head are some gulls,
Squawking away.
Land is close!
The bottle hits a bay.

Embedded in the sand
Then a soft, small hand
Picks it up and turns it over.
Quite young is its holder.

The girl then
Unscrews the cork.
This green glass bottle
Isn't done with its work.

Inside a small paper
Crinkled and old.
Still holds a story
Never before told.

The beholder
Rolled out the paper
Like a scroll.
So she may see
The entire thing whole.

She took in the sight
With her big, gray-like eyes.
Then with gasp,
Dropped the bottle in surprise!

It was a beautiful Painting,
The sun setting sky,
With pinks, blues, and yellows.
Such a thing caught her eye.

There was a boat in the water of the painting,
With a dark silhouette.
It was such a fine painting,
You'll never forget.

And under was written:
"My dear Mary Grace,
Who left me and never came back.
I wish to see her face."

Now the girl knew this story,
And it made her feel sad.
The man who painted this picture
Had lost someone he had.

The girl had felt the feeling.
She had lost someone, too.
And what made it worse, she ran away,
From someone she always knew.

So she sang a song
That rang loud and clear,
For the man across the water
Came to hear.

It was his Mary Grace
Who was singing a song!
So he puffed up his chest,
And sang along.

So they got back together
And parted never,
And loved each other
Forever and ever.
Father and Daughter.

The song they sang
Was like this poem.
I tell you it's true!
They sang it out boldly
Voices soaring
Over the ocean,

The author's comments:
I wrote this poem for school in eighth grade. My first ballad.

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