Cotton skin

Our bodies are hearts and flowers,
held together by birds and banners.
Laid in sun filled distant fields,
resting dry and weathered.

We have given what we were given,
and we have taken just what we needed.

All I could ask is for colder winds and shorter days.
When we wrap ourselves in cotton skins to keep us warmer than the air.

We are buried miles deep, lost and long forgotten.
We suddenly forget to speak and nothing really matters.