Borrowed Bones

Borrowed Bones

~Bushra Firdaus

Holding rattles, sucking pacifiers,
now grasping books, locking fingers,
will clasp the melody of lost singers.

Gazing at plastic yellow-blue stars,
now tending bright red scars,
will gaze on all the silver strands.

Toes kicking soap bubbles without regret,
now tucking secrets beneath each step,
will tread the land like a silhouette.

Toothless giggles—every moment,
now stage-lit smiles in fragments,
will grin through the cracked monument.

First steps stumbling on smooth tiles,
now grinding ironclad soles for miles,
will walk as whispers—slow and wise.

Unfazed by playing in dust,
surging through storms, though unjust,
will erode in corners like rust.

Hoisted merrily on shoulders,
now carrying adulthood’s heaviest boulder,
will bend, leaving memories to molder.

These warm, tender hands that held,
now weary with pulling seatbelts,
will leave the bones where they dwelt.