Freshly Dusted

It was the smell of time And the light falling just so, That invoked memories Of times long ago. I thought I had forgotten The magic of her voice. Detailing mysteries and fantasies That I had never known before. She made me think  Of poetry and sunshine Sitting at that desk. Writing outside the lines. Dust motes danced through the air As a...

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Bent, hobbled, driving hard against the rain, The lone man stumbles. Falling in pain. And he plummets face-first into the mud. The next man to pass that way, Was lively, animated, gesturing with his hands. Sheltering his phone as he walked away, Heading indoors. The third was a woman, With an umbrella. Trudging through the rain, she held a soda can, Contemplating the...

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