I see him through the walls of his cell;
walls made of glass that blind him;
he cannot see me waving.
He found the key in his studio room,
emptied the bottles that said DRINK ME
until he fit through the little door
into the walled garden - and was gone.
Tears poured as I bashed the bottles.
I watch as she walks along the shore;
Isis, Queen of Heaven,
gathering bits of sea glass in her bag.
She sees me wave.
In her studio over the dunes
a new creation will rise
from shards of broken bottles,
battered by drowning tides.