Message In A Bottle

Has it ever occurred to you,
Lying on the bed on a Monday night,
What would it really feel like
To receive jade-coloured bottle,
Tightened with a cork and made of glass
And enclosing a tiny piece of paper
And nothing else?

Wouldn’t it be strange if that bottle,
Jade-coloured bottle, yes, just appear
By the windowsill and just sit there?
Staring at the fan, rotating about its business
Throwing around the contents of the summer
Heat around the room, creaking like a yard swing
And failing at its job, you would wonder,
‘Should I leave it be? Should let it fall?
Should I leave it be? Should I uncork?’

You wonder and you wonder,
While the jade-coloured bottle sits–
Staring at your frozen visage,
Listless, drained in the heat, a prosaic
Presence in room with lilac walls,
A contrast to the mood within the mind’s halls;
It wonders if it will be greeted, touched,
Opened up and understood—
For all that it hoped to be was simply be
Accepted for who it was.

But who was it? Besides a strange appearance,
What was its purpose, the jade-coloured bottle mused;
Was it a bottle bearing a strangeness?
Or was it a strange message withheld in glass?
You look at it, the heat is too much, moving
A muscle would be a clutch; so you lie and stare
While it squats and bears the suspense
Between two entities, or is it three, or more,
And while the clock moves through its motion
We wonder if you will pick the bottle,
If you would unravel this mystery, it’d be so easy,
After all, who’s never befriended the bizarre
And opened a message in a bottle.