At the Grave of a Friend

[Marc_Gilbert]

As kids we played among the stones
and danced to beats of borrowed time.
Not yet aware how frail is bone,
our fingers traced the faded lines
of mother, father, wife and son,
devoted husband, sister, friend,
never dreaming our names too
would grace such stones at short time’s end.

[colm]

A neat write, Marc. Something all us older ones can appreciate.
‘borrow time’ should this be ‘borrowed time’?

[Marc_Gilbert]

Thanks Colm. Fixed the typo.

[SharonL]

“Not yet aware how frail is bone,” … what a line, it anchors the poem. Excellent