Dust (Poetry)
24th April 2011
This house has dust —
it carries a faint trace
from every soul who’s entered here
and left their drifting mark upon the place.
It’s haunted gently by
those living and those dead
whoever’s visited
their atoms linger on — unswept.
They are a million strong —
a host of shifting, shuffling motes —
who catch the nosing light
and shiver in too-thin grey coats.
Unnamed and silent, settle down —
they have no other home to be
but gathered here — massing in their quiet crowds
providing company.
it carries a faint trace
from every soul who’s entered here
and left their drifting mark upon the place.
It’s haunted gently by
those living and those dead
whoever’s visited
their atoms linger on — unswept.
They are a million strong —
a host of shifting, shuffling motes —
who catch the nosing light
and shiver in too-thin grey coats.
Unnamed and silent, settle down —
they have no other home to be
but gathered here — massing in their quiet crowds
providing company.