The Bottle
The place was crowded, noise did resonate Faces all smiling twixt laughter and chatter Found an empty table with a dirty plate and an empty bottle, it did not matter. The seat I did take, surveying the crowd Wondering when at last I might be served The din of laughter was getting quite loud Wanting to shout “ Gar ḉon” , alas, no nerve. To mask my impatience, the bottle I sought Fingered its neck and studied the label The cap was tight, a hard twist had fought When suddenly it slammed, hard to the table. Just as it tumbled, a hard shutter it did make When out popped a genie, much to my surprise I rubbed my eyes quite certain it’s fake Looking about, no one witnessed its rise “look at me!” it did shout to my startled look “the others don’t matter for they cannot see I bring you a message, my form is the hook This is just ‘twixt us, just you, just me.” I stammered and struggle, no words do emerge In raw disbelief that I speak to a cloud I fidget and squirm, them my voice did emerge...