Dust Poem by martin elbin

There's an old fine layer of dust
That covers everything
From all my shoes to ceiling lamps
And garbage in between.

The fan blades bend beneath the crush
Of soils slowly built
In layers on the spinning arms
And sticks to them like silt.

Once shiny loafers sadly dulled
By constant raining grit
Are sad reminders of grey days
Of winters's lost and lonely fit.

That in between won't matter much
For cleaning never stops
And dust will always be the pest
On couches, frames and table tops.

Like time the dust continues on
I've got too much of both now
And nothing clean to let me breath
Fresh airs or fiends to teach me how.

Dust is really very sad
And covers everything
Remembrances are very deep
And never see the spring.