Dry Bones Poem by Jeremy Willson
Dry Bones
Dust collects in a pile under my bed
I figure nobody looks below dark places
No one searches for a problem
Deeper than the surface shows
Everything looks neat and clean
But what about the dust?
It's still there
As a pile of dry bones abodes above it
And yet still, no one notices
But what about the trust?
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: bones,dust,mind,problems,trust
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4/27/2024 12:20:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
