Bones & Skulls

Shortened stones

And weathered broken glass

I'll never trace their path

The reason for their form

It's like the hairless brush

Or the broken little things

In the kitchen drawer

Full of forgotten memories

That are gonna be gone

Like the people who made them

And the people who broke them

And the people who found them

And the people who put them in drawers

Or the children who let them out

With the pottery

And the bones and skulls of birds