Layers of Dust

Layers of dust
Cover shuttered glances,
While a neglected skill
Is actively stifled.

Something sweet
Turns bitter
And the food of life
Grows hard.

Silent conflict
Seethes
From mildew hanging
Down off the ceiling like hair.

A broom never touches
What lies on the floor
Except when company comes-
Barely then.

Cluttery shelves
Only cover
The remnants of what might have been
Beautiful.

Who will mend the tatters
Or clean the dirt?
No one wants to get their hands
Dirty.

(Revised June 4, 2010)