Sitting, walking, lying all around me
Hiding under layers
Cloth, skin, flesh; all covering
But I see the skeleton beneath

His face, so ancient and weary
Sagging from the weight of a thousand memories
Eyes sunk, brow sharp
I see the skeleton beneath

Her arms, so long and thin
Posturing, only skin where the flesh of youth belongs
Frail fingers, weak joints
I see the skeleton beneath

Children’s feet, so dirty and cold
Nothing under thin skin to warm them
Bare, scarred, calloused
I see the skeleton beneath

A figure in the mirror, so soft and small
Purple bags under eyes crinkling with laughter
Life and mirth thickly layered on
But yes, just there, I see the skeleton beneath