The Poem In The Broken Bottle

Footprints in the sand formed on their own.
Starting from where I stood.
Slowly forming, they continued closer to the water.
And left me here alone.

What was forming the steps, I may never know.
And, of course, this should've frightened me.
However fearless, I stepped towards the path.
Many steps, following the prints.

They lead me to the shore,
With seashells paved down for me.
Maybe so my feet wouldn't stumble.
One print stopped halfway, and I heard glass break.
I looked down to see a broken bottle.
And inside the broken bottle was a poem.