The Weight of Dust

Dust settles like stories left unsaid,

layers of life trapping laughter and tears—

old books cradling whispers of words long dead,

yet alive in the corners of passing years.

I turn a page, and the dust takes flight,

a gentle reminder of moments I’ve lost,

of laughter shared late into the night,

but the quiet comes heavy, and I count the cost.

Each particle holds shadows of days intertwined,

forgotten tales wrapped in the web of time;

as I brush them away, a small spark I find—

that even in stillness, our lives rhyme.