Red beacon

A beacon to travelers from afar
It stands still on the table top
A drop of red in between the green trees
It beckons from a distance away
Lifting the spirits of the tired and depressed
Promising of better things to come
In itself, it is not complete
For ketchup is always on the side
Nor is it the reason to arrive
At the canteen nearby the labs
Not even is it hot or steaming
Like tea or coffee or a grilled sandwich
But in between concrete, tables and shady sunlight
The cool trees and the thick undergrowth
This red red bottle of sauce
Though, made of tomatoes it is not
is capable of warming the coldest heart
And lighting the most downcast eyes
For hope it gives of happiness in future
And hope can sustain while happiness does not.