I must give my lady a token
For the last one I sent was broken
A bottle of the sea to her from me
Was spilled on the sand irreverently.
She greatly despised the ocean and me
For she longed for a little flower reverie
She did not wish to keep the bottled sea
And the waves that stole the wonder in me.
It was a lovely day and the sea, warm
When its limbs attacked me without alarm
From its depths I’ve spoken her name aloud
But my voice was eaten by the ocean shroud.
From underneath the sea, can flowers ever be?
I can’t plant a flower garden for her glee
May she find another dreamer to serenade her with a lily
from this sea, and set me free.
(c) Ruth Mostrales, June 2010