Layers of Time

Sunlight catches on a ceiling fan,

its blades bearing layers of dust,

a testament to days gone by,

as if each particle is a moment,

gathered, settled, and forgotten,

time creases here, and shadows play.

I stand below, eyes squinting up,

in awe of the stillness, the beauty

of neglect, the way dust dances

in light, a ghostly ballet

of all I’ve left behind,

while outside life screams in color.

What stories lurk in the

thin veneer, waiting to breathe?

A memory, a laugh, a sigh

that could scatter like leaves,

yet there they sit, unbothered,

a quiet witness to a life once vivid.