As the wind blows through her hair, it stretches it to a golden comet's tail that reflects as the purest gold in the sunset. Her beautifully pale skin slightly red from the dying day. He watches her, though she takes no notice that his hand just passed through hers. She continues walking along; alone on the beach. Nobody around for miles.

She sees something bobbing in the waves. A bottle. A bottle of old IBC root beer. With a cork and some sand in it. Just floating in the waves. "Such a lonely little bottle" she thinks to her self. Gingerly, she plucks the bottle from the fierce tide that battered the bottle so. She pulls the cork and dumps the sand, halfway expecting to find a message in a bottle. All the sand has left the bottle, and to her surprise, there is no message. Because it is just an inconsequential bottle, she takes it, and throws it behind her.

She starts off toward her hotel. On a whim, she looks back at that lonely bottle that she plucked from the waves. And, in the bottle, is a note. A note that wasn't there before. And beside that, beside her own footsteps in the sand, is another set, sunken deeper. But the owner of those steps is nowhere to be found. She turns around and takes the bottle from the sand.

She takes out the rolled piece of paper, weathered by the salt air, with distinguishable drop marks that were fresh. Beside her, she noticed the same pattern of wet dots in the sand, two groupings right next to each other. Yet the tide is low, and she is adjacent the dunes. In the dimming sunset light, next to the mysterious drops and footsteps, she sits and reads…


Dear (This part was indistinguishable due to the wet drops)

This little letter,
Is how I feel towards you,
It keeps my heart alive
And help my mind renew.

The power of your words
The sway of your touch
Every little action has
Me in your clutch

Lacking any power,
Over my self or my actions,
Aura of your beauty.
Divides me into factions.

Right says yes, Left says no.
Yet the results the same.
The paralysis of indecision.
But I think I'm to blame

I want to tell you how I feel
How you make me complete
Yet all my hot passion
Burns me in its heat

You drive my mind in circles,
And tie my soul in knots,
But that is what you do,
When you rule my thoughts.

Now the deepest cut of all
The one that stings the most
Is that I have not the courage
To tell what I just wrote…


As she read this, he realized his mistake. He shouldn't have thrown it all away. He would have had another chance. "I wish it were. I wish it might. By the first star I see tonight." The girl with the blond hair now obscured by darkness says, as a cloud parts, revealing the first star of evening. "I love you." He whispers in her ear, as he fades to the place of peaceful spirits. She turns her head from side to side, looking to find where the voice came from, wondering, if that was what he couldn't say to her all those years she knew him.

A/N: I dont know how i feel about this yet. Please review this poem.