Through the shadows you'll find

Joseph, our leading skeleton by night

Brisk in walk but all talk

Never seen the dead so bright

He holds friends in the royal court, all alive of course

Can't go into town when the sun is high so he slinks about with the moon by his side

For if he ventured out to those unknown, Jo may be charred to paint for the artist use

But he grew tired and frankly bored hiding and peering into lives of what could've been before he died

Before all could wake in the royal court, Jo wrote some notes for all who'll miss his talks and corpse

Out he went to the streets of townspeople who never seen the dead so bright

A mother dropped her pail of water, a blacksmith bent the metal of what could've been the finest sword

Joseph noticed it all with the pail at his skelly feet, new faces glowing when they couldn't at night

He bent to pick up the pail with very little water left and graciously clasped the mother's hand to its handle

His kindness broke through her reverie, mildly unaware of his bony fingers as she grasped them back

Staring into those gaping eyes, she knew his soul to live although no word was said

And in complete joy, he feels his barren chest crack