Waves of Red Wine

Day flipping behind closed curtains sending the bottle to wash ashore. Searching the storm for a finger to break the revolving gray canvas. The brush frayed the pallet empty of color distilled into black and white. Shaky lines scribbled as the message fades into the swells, lost at sea. This tiny boat it's bow beating through the thrashing white cap waves. Finding it's harbor encased in glass, beached again on the wine soaked sand. Trapped with the squawking seagulls and the lighthouse call. Empty the bottle tossed to Poseidon once more.