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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It was an old brown bottle with a cork stuck in top That I saw half buried in the sand On a remote stretch of beach near my Pacific Northwest home That I dug out with a stick and my hand. I pulled out the cork and removed a note from inside With handwriting that was old and faded; A letter that was written over fifty years ago Nineteen Fifty Eight on the top it was dated. “I am writing this note and casting it out to sea For no one in particular but mostly for me. I am with child but with no husband by my side; For months it has grown in me and every night I have cried. My family sent me here to Washington state, I’ve ruined their reputation so this is my fate. I will do my best to raise my child right, But it’s a future I face with terror and fright. Should you find this bottle and read my little tale Please say a prayer for me; I could use your support so that I don’t fail From the other side of the sea.” As it turns out the bottle didn’t travel far, In fact it was caste from this very shore. Fifty two years later I recognize the handwriting - I’ve seen it so many times before. It’s the same handwriting on notes I took to school And on every birthday card I saved; It’s the same handwriting from the woman I called Mother And last year buried in a grave. I never knew the story of how I came to be And, frankly, never thought to ask; I was just a bastard child of a wonderful mother Whose story I just found in this flask.
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