Flesh and bones..

August new poetry number twelve. A re-write.

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 and I stood with so many victories.

I realized too late. They don’t mean too much.

Beautiful young woman sitting between my legs. She looked up.
She told me, “It don’t matter anyway and 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 and 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. 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.

                          Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Kim S.]

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. Just here awhile to try to celebrate being alive.

LOVE this part, I remember a song called Flesh and bones, but can't remember who sang it.
Enjoyed your write

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you, dear Becks. An old one.