Dust

The golden dust that sweeps,

Away every evening,

No one seems to be noticing,

The way it flies,

And settles down along the

The rosy rim of the leaves.

.

It has none to express its feeling with

It settles on the edge of the door--that's it.

.

Searching beyond,

And staying ever long,

It is thrown away from every corner.

.

Still saying,

Having no Identity,

Only surviving in nature's Natural Bounty,

From dawn till dusk,

And away from elephant's tusk,

Just sweeps its away from daylight...