The Bone Carrier
I sit alone
listening to the absence of life,
held in a grip of semi-hibernation.
I see you time and time again
through defeated eyes,
carrying your cold white bones; proud of your height
that moved with carefree intelligence.
The hooded robe
floating in pools about your feet,
of ghostly beauty and fathomless eyes.
I name each bleach bare bone you carry,
so that one day I can piece you together.
New poem: The Bone Carrier – to READ and COMMENT on this and other poems in the latest collection go to http://www.daveyoungpoet.wordpress.com and CLICK on YellowFlower parts 1 and 2