Untitled Ii

Corner, corner Full of cobwebs, Lies a jar of dust, Full of memory and emotion: Happiness and lust. Corner, corner In this old home, Lies the dust of past, A bitter kick-up of this stuff, Will bring the pain back fast. Corner, corner Caked with grime, Houses the jar of dust, Which in turn houses the memory: To remember is a must. Corner, corner Etched in time, By blowing winds of change, There lies the broken jar of dust: Where specks of it now lay. And now we watch as this dust dies, It leaves us solemn; tears in eyes. And wait until another comes, A memoir made of dust.