Dust
Dust.
Billows of forgetfulness spread lugubriously
over good intentions and future promise.
To clean would only reawaken old failings,
lumbering back into unfettered view, wagging moldy fingers
and voicelessly mouthing regrets and admonitions.
The deliberately forsaken, orphaned by restless regard,
rise - hands clinging for my hem and wait anxiously
to resume their tug, tug, tug for my attention.
As is the worker, so too is the workplace.
Time to tidy up.
Billows of forgetfulness spread lugubriously
over good intentions and future promise.
To clean would only reawaken old failings,
lumbering back into unfettered view, wagging moldy fingers
and voicelessly mouthing regrets and admonitions.
The deliberately forsaken, orphaned by restless regard,
rise - hands clinging for my hem and wait anxiously
to resume their tug, tug, tug for my attention.
As is the worker, so too is the workplace.
Time to tidy up.
posted by HeadCheese at Tuesday, June 15, 2004
1 Comments:
I really need to clean my desk. I must really be starting to twist off when I write odes to the dust that's taken up residence there ...
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