Bottles Full Of Stories

Poetry Jun 8, 2021

I twist the cap, and dive right in
Hear the stories that it tells
That exist now, but not in writing
Listen as it whispers, yells

I hear of storms, of rocky beaches
Wind-torn houses, by the coast
I listen to forgotten speeches
By some long-forgotten host

Of laugher, lonely days I learn
Of running out of books
Running out of moral concerns
Of silent, longing looks

I was not there, but yet I know
How it must have felt to try
To uphold morals, then forego
All attempts to lie

I take sips, and watch unfold
The story and crossed legs
Some things shall remain untold
Of melting, molten wax

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Lars Londerre

I write whenever the mood strikes or strokes. Things get weird sometimes, but then that's why you're here.