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FROM THE DUST
My pony had a hissy fit;
I never saw it coming.
He reared and bucked, and that was it.
Then he was off and running.
Mid-show, I rose and coughed up dust;
Thank God, I was unhurt.
I knew, to mount again I must,
Not wallow in the dirt.
I held my breath and climbed aboard
My impudent blood-bay.
We cleared the hurdles, soared and scored,
The champions of the day.
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Spattering of dirt caught in the air,
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Dust on the floor.
Etched with care.
By neglect and
total despair.
Asleep for ten decades.
Maybe more.
Greyish-brown
Dust Bunny
Bunny bunny,
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Dead skin, remnants of time, gone by
questions unanswered, still asking why
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parts of
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Do you see, up there, by the light,
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