A Stray Patch of Sun
I can't tell if this is enough poetry -
Light sunshine falls through the cracks in my door,
Dust shimmers mid-air, never falling,
Stuck between life and death, not minding one bit
This fifteen seconds of fame or burning bright, aflame.
I can't tell if this is verse enough, or scribbling -
Doodling, because life doodles on.
I can't tell if clichés are radiant metaphors who didn't die young,
As all beauty must.
I can't tell if I'm a closet murderer or a poet,
Or whether killing dreams counts,
Or letting them die.
Dust is beautiful, bewitching, sparkling in the sun -
I can't tell if it knows.
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