Barefoot, you move through
The corridors of that house
Where dust dances a duet with dusk.
You make no sound,
And your sober clothes
Shout at me a story
Of a lifetime of subdued emotions.
Wispy strands of grey hair
Fall over your spectacles,
Like the paradox that is you.
You smile,
Laughlines and all,
And speak to me about
Distant lands and clever people
And I hear, but don’t listen;
I am too busy searching in you
For the story of the person
Who painted you in black and white
When you were made to be in colour.



  1. assortmentbox · March 10, 2016

    “Dust dances a duet with dusk” wonderful usage!!!! ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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