A message in a bottle.

Really, I’m happy as a lark. Because I stay connected. By writing messages. To the outside. Daily.  Yes, I like living. On my remote desert island. With a collection of empty bottles. Allowing me. To stuff my written thoughts into containers. That drift aimlessly. Wherever the current takes them. To be discovered. A hundred years later. By someone walking on a beach. In a faraway place. Meanwhile, I’ll spend my remaining days. Combing my beach. Looking for a bottle. That was dispatched. Somewhere. By a kindred soul. A long, long time ago. --Jim Broede