The Walking Chalk

A chalk stick child
Once came from a womb
Walked this earth,
And laid rest in a tomb
On the grave, on that blackboard wrote:

People sure are silly folk.
I lived my life, I writ my road
They flap their jaws, spew whiny talk
Of how their world’s not upward chalk
Why would one complain about such a thing?
For in living, you wear a marking string
We erode and wither with our time
Strewn pieces which are left behind

When nothing’s left but stub - don’t mope
Picture the beautiful life that you wrote

~paroem & poedox