A Piece of Dust

A Piece of Dust

 
A lazy louse can see no light;
Rampant parts are done at night.
 
Coursing through a river flow,
Seeking what you do not know.
 
A piece of dust, or that of glass,
Seems to you that it is crass.
 
Around a corner, up a stream,
Sounding out, you boil like steam.
 
A race to finish all but last,
You haven’t got a furnished past.
 


Posted In: Poems

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