Funeral Grey -Sonnet-

A skeleton stood in front of me today,
complete with a cane and wings.
Those eyes withheld a funeral grey,
his lips sown with strings.
He spoke one word of sorrow,
as he stood naked in the cold.
Hinted of a wasted tomorrow,
of this alone he foretold.
Protracted fingers extended forever,
inviting me to a world of stars.
Vaguely I realized I tried to endeavour,
what was his and what was ours.
Tonight I may think of his world of slate,
and dream of our fate.