Still Life

Charcoal stains and growing pains
All fuse and fade to gray
A skull is all that still remains
From when the debt of life was paid

To the right does stand a bright blue vase –
A vessel for flowers and ashes
Below it, a cloth of pure white lace
As thin as a woman’s eyelashes

Above lies a gourd in organic form,
Turned on its wart-laden side
Age passing fast and innocence torn
Washes us out with the tide

In the middle of all these drawable things
Is a candle burning bright
Through hardships, triumphs, peasants, and kings
Is a waxy mess, but it’s still life