Dust

I took a fistful of it, and it slipped out,
I took it once again, and slipped it out again,
And then I never tried to do the same.
Yes, I am made of it, and to it will I go,
Call it dust, call it love, I do not know.
A speck of it in her eyes, and she cried,
More than I had ever seen anyone,
Call it dust, call it love, I do not know.
Long ago the book I had closed,
Today gathers it and nests it in itself,
Call it dust, call it love, I do not know.
And the same she swept out of the house,
The house which stored memories so old,
Memories of affectionate moments gathered together,
Like single pages of many books,
Which speak about the same,
Swept she every minute part of it out,
Call it dust, call it love, I do not know.
The storm brought again the same inside,
And I saw it by the light of day,
And smiled to see it back in place,
From where it was removed long ago,
Call it dust, call it love, I do not know.

2 thoughts on “Dust

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.