The sun rises from its eastward home  Over the horizon For it to warm the waves’ foam For its rays to sparkle on the ocean’s surface Glimmers of diamonds so special  they can’t be for purchase But try as it might Not even this golden light can bring enough warmth to the Portside Woman Her frozen fingers hold A piece of paper she will shakily fold  And slip into a vial secured with cork and prayer Her eyes plead, “Give me back my sailor” Past the dock and jagged rocks The small bottle floats out to sea Until a gull snatches it up during a mistaken hunting spree When glass is found instead of sardine meat the not-so-tasty treat  is discarded Left on the grey sand for The Wandering Man to find He doesn’t quite mind The cold winds or sand flees when they’re swarming He’s here every morning Collecting tin cans to trade for pennies Just a few more until he can afford breakfast and dog kibble Out he takes the note Two words alone That’s all she wrote “Come home” The Wandering Man turns to his four-legged friend The mutt’s fur just as scraggly as his beard, indeed The list adventures they’ve been on together seems to never end “You’re all the home I need” From a hole in the Wandering Man’s pocket the bottle slips As a baritone sea shanty dances from his lips A high tide rakes in all treasures from the coast Later, a little girl with sandy hair and pink shoulders that roast in the midday sun happens upon the vial trapped in the rock pools Her legs take off in a run She’s the Sandcastle Expert Whose found the perfect decoration for her latest creation She shows her mother the paper Tonight they’ll have dinner at her grandparents’ house in the outskirts of town Three generations in one home Decades of care passed down In the lovely chaos of childhood The bottle and it’s message gets left behind on the top of the castle surrounded by shells and driftwood A rogue wave takes the vial back Strong undercurrents sweep it out to the far deep Where the Lost Sailor’s limbs are growing weak A storm has torn apart his boat He hangs onto its remains, barely keeping afloat Salt sting his eyes and mouth A wave crashes the bottle into the plank of wood he clings to Its ink runs into the water like blood But not before he can recognize the handwriting of his love With his last breath he says, “I wish I could, but some of us have to stay I’ll love you forever, no matter from how far away” The sun returns home to the horizon now The Portside Woman, dressed in all black, dives into the bay Her fingers start to thaw They are together again, in their own way