Dear sweetheart,
When time has wasted away my sallow skin
Leaving nothing but
Gleaming, ivory bones,
Don’t stuff them into a sack
Or glue them together for a science display.
No, no, that would never do,
For you see, my darling,
They can be hammers for the workman,
Chewing toys for the dogs,
Cake-batter mixers for the cook,
Weapons for the weak,
Back scratchers for the old,
Maybe building tools for construction workers.
My love, you could even build a bridge
Over that creek in your backyard
Oh, but at least use them to line
The snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas
The next time you find yourself alone, sweetheart,
Running against the wind that threatens to
Blow you away, or trying to fly against
Gravity that pulls you down
When the memories begin to fade
And the dusk looms in the glades
Please, remember, to think
Of me and my bones
When I’m gone.