Amaryllis
October 4th, 2011, 11:33 PM
THE WISHING BOTTLE
A glass bottle sits on a windowsill
Translucent, bare and cold.
Inside sits a little note
Once held by tiny hands.
The bottle leans against the edge
Of the aged, chipped window frame,
Untouched, unheard, unseen
By the lives in which it came
Once, a little girl sat on the floor
Shaking bare and cold.
Her arms littered with scratches
And bruises left untold.
Her little fingers gripped with might,
The leaking pen of hope.
As she scribbled that one wish
A tiny teardrop rolled.
A boy and his friends saw the bottle one day
And wondered what it held.
They tried to pull the cork out
But alas, it did not budge.
So they left the haunted, wooden house
With the bottle in their arms.
They threw it in the ocean
And watched it wash away.
With time and age the bottle sunk,
The paper in it, gone.
Still, a girl hangs in that house,
A rope around her neck.
Her eyes once held a world of pain
But now held none at all.
But no one knows and no one will,
What the little girl wished for.
A glass bottle sits on a windowsill
Translucent, bare and cold.
Inside sits a little note
Once held by tiny hands.
The bottle leans against the edge
Of the aged, chipped window frame,
Untouched, unheard, unseen
By the lives in which it came
Once, a little girl sat on the floor
Shaking bare and cold.
Her arms littered with scratches
And bruises left untold.
Her little fingers gripped with might,
The leaking pen of hope.
As she scribbled that one wish
A tiny teardrop rolled.
A boy and his friends saw the bottle one day
And wondered what it held.
They tried to pull the cork out
But alas, it did not budge.
So they left the haunted, wooden house
With the bottle in their arms.
They threw it in the ocean
And watched it wash away.
With time and age the bottle sunk,
The paper in it, gone.
Still, a girl hangs in that house,
A rope around her neck.
Her eyes once held a world of pain
But now held none at all.
But no one knows and no one will,
What the little girl wished for.