Musée du Ben

Dipping in ink, the sailor wrote his first words on a parched paper;
Listening to the blues from a gramophone, he penned letters for his love.
Words become ashes as the candle burn brighter,
Thoughts flew away with the flap of albatross flying across the ship.
Five, six and seven lines, he couldn’t contain his love in the paper,
Can one accumulate love as vast as the sea in a bottle?
He picked a red feather from his hat and rolled inside the letter,
Dropping the scroll inside, he blew some air to make the bottle fly.
He passed the bottle from his hand to the ocean and waved goodbye,
Gazing at the stories the tides carried, he felt solace in the ocean.
In a land far away from the sailor, a lady was waiting;
She sat on the silver sand at the beach that glows in the moon’s light.
Smiling at the waves that cheered her patience, she awaited the arrival.
She saw a tiny moon floating on the ocean bed, swirling around in a bottle;
T’was the letter that travelled miles following the fragrance of a woman.
Ocean’s breeze moved her tears away while tides bought her the present;
A letter of love washed ashore the beach and moonlight that guided faded away;
She read the words from parched paper and her tears made the paper fertile.
Leering at the sea while the tides returned back to ocean gliding over her feet,
When the soul bid her farewell and went along with the tide, she found solace in the ocean.