Lovely Bones

Lovely
humerus,
tibula,
femur,
all piled in a heap
of ivory
exhumed from the frame
of crumpled skin,
wasting away
to a fine powder
of grey and silver.
Faded into ashes
and swept away
into gusts of wintry air.
Left alone,
the pile of lovely bones,
alone and solitary
in their grouping.
Serving no purpose
except to litter the earth
with wasting reminders
of what was
and what could have been.