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A little bread—a crust—a crumb—
A little trust—a demijohn—
Can keep the soul alive—
Not portly, mind! but breathing—warm—
Conscious—as old Napoleon,
The night before the Crown!

A modest lot—A fame petite—
A brief Campaign of sting and sweet
Is plenty! Is enough!
A Sailor’s business is the shore!
A Soldier’s—*****! Who asketh more,
Must seek the neighboring life!
Aaditya Feb 2019
Along the seashore, as he was

moving through the sands,
encountered this exquisite
shiny green demijohn, corked
snugly with a small piece of
an old, dry parchment in it.
getting excited, he pulled the
extra tight spile open. Taking

it out of the bottle, spreading
nicely the curled up paper, on

a dry space he could find, he

began reading the words scrawled
on it. The paper read, "Whomsoever,
this paper shall find, shall simply
throw it back into the sea. Humour."
lacking clarity, he did as was told
exactly. Bottled the message into the sea.
...in a bottle

— The End —