The Bones

The bones of the matter, pieces chipped by the harsh reality of life and aged by the winds of time. Some have become petrified, dried out and turned to delicate lace. Others are more substantial. Cluncky, oddly shaped, jagged edged, and smooth lined, intermingled in a tangle of stories to tell. They lie dry and dusty, no temporal flesh in which to hide its strength or frailty. These bones have been kicked and scattered by a million carless feet that never looked or slowed down on their way to something distant that caught their eye.