Colorful serenade poem.

COLORFUL SERENADE

I collect colorful bottles.
Stories of dinner and wine,
a street dweller finishing
off the brown one and throwing
it aside for a junk dealer
to pick up and sell to me.

The bottles are red, yellow,
pink, blue, brown and clear.
They hang by ropes from a
tree branch and create music
when the wind rushes past.

The western sun drives it’s
rays through the glass and
makes an almost holy
recreation of a stained glass
church window.

The bottles make me happy.
They are festive and tacky
at the same time. But it
doesn’t matter to me what
others think when they
drive past our house.

I will keep adding bottles,
hearing glass serenades
and watching rainbows
dance at sunset.