Fresh and bones…
Flesh and bones
(Need a positive poem. Life is to be celebrated. Each day is a gift.)
I fell from the top of the mountain,
I stood with so many victories,
I realized too late.
They don’t mean too much.
Beautiful young woman sitting between my legs and she looked up.
Told me, “It don’t matter anyway. We are only flesh and bones.”
I sat by the ocean, watching the her power and beauty.
The ocean is heartless, so dangerous and tempting.
Woman with sad eyes sat with me,
she wished she was a better person.
I told her,
we are but flesh and bones.
In time we will fade away to distance memories.
I gave everything away,
I roamed with the poets and the musicians.
We sat late into the night together on lonely Monterey beaches.
Drinking and talking of things that was and were to be.
The singer sang a love song.
When he is done.
He told me.
” Love doesn’t really mean too much,
we are but flesh and bones. doing our best”
Just here awhile to try to celebrate being alive.
We danced and ran the lonely beaches.
We said a prayer to our God.
For one more day to be alive and free.
For we are but flesh and bones.
, Sept 2008