Simple case of life existing reflected
in patches of past person. Dust being
the evidence,
‘I was here’ it cries,
lazily laying upon surfaces,
those colour combinations be a thing
only the living need care for, those
moving bundles of star particles
still granted the spark.
They sweep up yesterday
caring not one iota for the
remnants of who they were,
cast aside through apathy,
no reminisce nor send off.
Yet, the pattern remains
and the changes slight.