Poem 21:15

21:15

A water bottle

large and bold,

2.2 litres you

can hold.

You’re carried around,

drunk from

and cherished,

for the liquid

you can hold

to revive and

 hydrate us.

Yet the bottle

has a dream,

a goal of its own,

to sit in the

driver’s seat and

take us home.

Feel the power of

deciding a course,

of being noticed,

and offering a choice.

But the bottle has

no hands, no feet,

no eyes,

you remain in the

passenger seat,

unnoticed and

alone.