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by S.C. Kleinhans

Dust on the floor.

Etched with care.

By neglect and

total despair.

Asleep for ten decades.

Maybe more.

Greyish-brown floor

saw haggard people

as they wandered

in and out of the old

brass & wooden door.

But they ignored

that ancient room.

The dust lay there.

Rotting in that gloom.

The dusty floor

witnessed several

slayings and thousands

of trivial crimes.

But a millennium had

nearly passed.

That wretched dust

has been abandoned

by man and time.

Solitary confinement.

Sadness in seven

sinful shades.

The dust

smiled weakly.

Craving

some attention.

It wanted to

feel subime.

One last time.

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Poetry: Dust

by S.C. Kleinhans

Poetry: Dust

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