Dust on the shelf
by clippedtrust
· 27/12/2025
Published 27/12/2025 17:48
Dust on the shelf.
That bottle, small, forgot.
A part of my old self,
now found, now caught.
The whiskey, or oil,
difficult to tell.
A slow, warm coil,
in its ancient shell.
The last light held within,
the motes, frozen, clear.
Where does time begin,
to disappear?