Skeleton Dance

So it’s a waltz? I’ll let you lead, my friend.
We’re just wasting time waiting for the end.
Icicle bones move under the snowman’s skin
with glacier patience. They say time mends
but also wears the fabric of the world thin.
Give that ancient globe a brand new spin—
it’ll fly apart. Don’t cry over oceans spilled
like milk; that’s how the Milky Way begins.
I tell you only what you know. Time kills.
Seeds wait in old dry lakes for rain to fill
the expectations of a bygone age. Your bones
are ivory and ice, long dry, but still
tatters of skin hang from your fleshless fingers.
A skeleton dancing on while daylight lingers.