It sat solitary
Polished by wind and rain
As if deep in thought
(though sans brain)
Sometimes a finger bone would twitch and tap
On the rock on which it sat
As time past, dirt and dust
Accumulated within crevices
And weeds sprang up from ground
twisting and twining around
A semblance of form was given
Organic, green and living
And the skeleton decided it had grown as a person
And got up and walked away
No comments:
Post a Comment