Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Dust

Just a speck of dust
It has no colour in its life
It is bleached by the wind of despair
Which has forever picked it up
Blown it around and around
Then it blows it far away from where it is
Yet it is always there
Never moving, never growing
But it grows to love its place
For that's where it will always be
Just a speck of dust.

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