Bottled Wishes Poem by Alexander Onoja

If wishes were horses,
not only beggars, i too would ride.
If it were a river, i would flow with the tide.
When mom left, i was little,
what dad left, was a bottle.
I was moronned into drinking for long,
soon singing a drunkard song.
The mirror shows me me,
telling me what I'd be.
The bottle shows me them,
the good wishes they condemn.

If bottles were glasses,
i won't put them on,
cos the vision would fool me pass the waited dawn.
I bottled my wishes in a tinted glass,
daring the perils it may pass.
Even when sleep breath his drowsy gale,
i still stand to watch my wishes sail.
When ever my bottle slowed,
i fuss and curse the snail it rode.
I wish they see the vigils i keep,
daring the autumn chill and drowsy sleep.

If i had one wish,
is that my wishes finds you,
and possibly mom too.
I'd lay awake all night,
waiting for the morning light.
At last my gladness comes to pass,
as i saw a bottled shiny glass.
Then out of the unyielding sea,
my wish swam to me.
My lungs span with no bout of fear,
as i opened my wish, 'a bottle of beer'