My bones have grown
strong. Although not
shown, these bones
hold me together.
They make me feel
alive and well. Me:
my bones can’t be
rehomed. Bones
can break, shatter,
and weaken as life
does its job. Bones
come into play
every day when
we say, “I have a
bone to pick with
you” or “You are bad
to the bone” or
Break a leg!” Later,
my bones will be
brittle, and it will
be hard to see.
Until then, I will
roam for as long
that I am strong.
One stone can break
a bone or it can kill
two birds with a throw.
One stone can shatter
a glass home or it can
help build a house
of one’s own. One stone
can make the difference
between what is known
and what is shown.
One stone to never be
left alone: as strong
as my own backbone.
Stones are thrown
till’ they are needed for
statues and tombstones.
I am made up
Of bones and skin.
I am made from
Generations of men.
I create things
Like a machine.
I wake sleepers up
And those in-between.
But Nothing’s the matter.
I am doing okay.
Because it doesn’t matter
At the end of the day.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 