Sunday, December 2, 2012

I wave under a Scarlett Sky
Roll my tired shoulders,
Stretch my hurting arms,
Shake my weary fingers,
My bones, My aching bones
They want to go no more
Is that a wave of good-bye, for good?
To retire?
Give up the Ghost, so to speak?
I'll wake in the morning and talk to my bones
Perhaps we can accommodate one to the other
I'll move more slowly and carefully
Choose more wisely when and wear I go
But that Scarlett Sky belongs deep inside of me
See, even the heart has its bones to hold it in place
Just as they articulate the hurting knee