Chasing Dust
In my room
I made my stand
Chasing dust
With child's hand
The more I pawed
The more I lost
I knew but naught
Of price or cost
'Twas only dust
And I but four
Grasping at
What flew before
At 33
It's all still dust
Priceless years
And wanderlust
The more I reach
The more it scatters
The more I see
All that matters
Not the dust
Whether lost,
Or caught
But child's will
Spoiled naught
I made my stand
Chasing dust
With child's hand
The more I pawed
The more I lost
I knew but naught
Of price or cost
'Twas only dust
And I but four
Grasping at
What flew before
At 33
It's all still dust
Priceless years
And wanderlust
The more I reach
The more it scatters
The more I see
All that matters
Not the dust
Whether lost,
Or caught
But child's will
Spoiled naught
1 Comments:
Poetic!
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