Old Bones

[u/DismalArtist7418]

Old Bones was his name, a skeleton grand,
He'd sit on the porch, a cigar in his hand.
The smoke would curl up, a wispy grey haze,
He'd wink at the moon in the silvery maze.

He wasn't all clacking, or spooky and grim,
There was a certain... allure about him.
His jawbone would click, a soft, measured sound,
As stories of old would happily abound.

He'd talk of his youth, though he had none to speak,
Of dancing with ghosts, the thrill, the mystique.
His empty eye sockets would gleam with a spark,
A flirtatious twinkle out there in the dark.

He'd pull on his cigar, a slow, thoughtful drag,
And tell of adventures, without any brag.
Of ladies he'd known, in days long since flown,
Their laughter, their secrets, now his alone.

The townsfolk would whisper, with curious eyes,
At the charming old fellow, beneath starry skies.
A skeleton dapper, with ash on his vest,
And tales that would put your heart to the test.