Poetry: The Soda Bottle

Pumping gas beside the highway, something caught my eye.

A plastic soda bottle slowly made its’ way on by.

I watched it on its’ journey as cars blew it to and fro,

Not seeing where it had come from or knowing where it would go.

I couldn’t help but thinking that we’re a lot alike; you see,

You were used until unwanted and then discarded just like me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that by fate we’d been tied.

For both myself and this bottle were mostly empty inside.

I watched quietly, not making a sound

As the plastic soda bottle was beat and bounced around.

Then it happened – SPLATT! – squashed flat.

I’ve been there, done that.