Small particles from all over the world


Covering untouched surfaces and gathering slowly

Until one day

They are swept by a curious finger

Joining to make a small length of fluff

That is soft and grainy

And made up of dust

The dust from the house

The dust from the farthest shore,

Blown in by the wind

And left as it passes through rooms and back out the window

The dust from the garden –

Bits of earth that came loose and seeds so light they fly.


Which gathers every day

And is swept away.


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