A green and empty wine bottle
Lay cracked upon the street.
Once full, once clean, once needed,
Til a soul it chanced to meet.
The bottle full meant many things
To many different folk.
The one that had the bottle last
Did give a gentle stroke.
He held the bottle tightly squeezed
Against his unshaved face.
To him is was the only thing
But him, in this dark place.
He sat against the curb,
And held the bottle tight,
And slowly kept a sippen
Throughout the long cold night.
When that green bottle emptied
The soul detached himself.
He stumbled back into the store
No comments:
Post a Comment