Gathered on furniture, ledges, in carpets, a child’s name written on an end table.
Layered dust of
a day, a few years, generations
sprinkled with dreams, laughter and tears
Fragments of dusty memories
settle within heart, soul and mind
revived by a flower, an aroma or a brilliant sky.
Ghostly dust of generations ~
invisible layers from families passing through time
traced by fading foot prints and frayed lessons
Star Dust ~
when it is our turn, we each join the dust of ages
sprinkled with dreams, laughter and tears.
“We’re all immortal, as long as our stories are told.”
~ Elizabeth Hunter, The Scribe
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