Old Bones Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I think I knew you'd never make old bones.
Now loss and grief have made my old age sere
For all your nearest neighbours are tombstones.

You went from living into Death's unknowns
Your death day will not change from year to year.
You'll never answer needy friends'cellphones.

You'll never reach the normal man's milestones
A marriage, maybe, then a son and heir,
Free spirit, you had skirted danger zones

Now sunlight fills the summer'shoneycombs
The aches of age make me the worse for wear
The magpies chirrup out their careless tones.

I've wizened into one of life's old crones
Your carefree siblings breath the summer air,
I think I knew you'd never make old bones.

Days sometimes pass, no mourning, and no moans.
But when I least expect it, you seem near.
Happy grandchildren lick their melting cones.
I think I knew you'd never make old bones.