DUST IN THE WIND
Each dawn, with the rising sun the flicker of lights sparkle into my lazy eyes as I draw the curtains reminiscing every beautiful moment, our story. my heart, body, and soul yearns for your embrace, of the dust in the wind. however, my memory of you is a prick in the heart. hurts and cuts deeper than a sharp blade. everyday, as I lay in bed, thinking, missing, the dust in the wind. with pleadingly stretched arms, I try to reach for you, and you fleetly slip between my fingers right before my rainy eyes as I feel your presence disappear. dusk till dawn, hope for another day. the dust in the wind. _ Gladwill Maiyo