Dust to Dust

It gathers behind doors,
the muck of hours and days
and years, blown through vents
and tracked in on the soles
of shoes that have hiked
through hell and heaven.
They may notice at first, 
but awareness is soon cloaked 
within other thoughts,
other times,
the tired ache of heads
ready for the pillow.
When it vanishes
for a day or two,
they may wonder
or be thankful
or simply contemplate
how much space
they will occupy
in some future

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