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Spattering of dirt caught in the air,
The minuscule bits and pieces of hair,
Flakes of skin cells cast to the side,
Upon non-disturbed spaces is where they reside.
This amalgam mixture goes where it goes,
More often than not winds up in a nose,
The act incites a sneeze and ejection once more,
Before the dust once again settles to the floor.
And then the dust will once again find flurry,
When disturbed from an object again in a hurry,
A cycle it will find it is sure to repeat,
The return to the air, a gift from ones' feet.
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Spattering of dirt caught in the air,
The minuscule bits and pieces of hair,
Flakes of skin cells cast to the side,
Upon non-disturbed
Dust on the floor.
Etched with care.
By neglect and
total despair.
Asleep for ten decades.
Maybe more.
Greyish-brown
Dust Bunny
Bunny bunny,
Come out to play,
The dusters coming to take you away,
Bunny bunny,
Bring your friends with you,
The
by Jon Coe
Dead skin, remnants of time, gone by
questions unanswered, still asking why
Grandpa lives, over there by his chair
parts of
CHORES
Do you see, up there, by the light,
it's dust and cobwebs from last summer!
What could be under my bed
where my lover
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Poetry: Dust
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