Dust Poem by Anthony Fortunato
Dust
Outside
Sleak sewers and ditches drain the water out the water ways
Dust is a human condition
We shelter our lives around the buildup of dust
No rain to wash clean the mind
No pain to kill the triviality of life
No way to clean the conscience
Our memories become chalky hard with past mistakes
In civility we have traded emotion for stress
The important things lie outside our doors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 2:04:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
