She lives by the Sea,
And walks on the Beach.
An Island somewhere,
So far outta reach.

A bottle is tossed,
A message within.
On the Seven Seas,
Where has it been?

Storms on the rise,
Sand washed away.
Notes under glass,
Meant for display.

I wait for the Tides,
A longing reply.
Here I will stay,
Till Oceans run dry.

Paradise of glass,
An Island of pain.
Left all alone,
Hard to maintain.

Bottles may roam,
Notes that tell all.
Storms have a story,
Wait for their call.

She lives by the Sea,
But never a trace.
Oh, what I'd give,
To again see her face!