Dreams and Dust

Winter came again,

The warm clothes crept out

One by one stacked
Waiting to take the place

Of their summer counter parts.

The razais and kambals (quilts)

Out from their hibernation,

Slithered from one bed to another,

The takhat,

The couch, 

The chair, the balcony, the window sill. 

The sun streamed through the glass,
Ever so lightly,
Illuminating the dust.
Each particle,
Spiraling slowly upward,
In the beams that fell,
Ever so lightly,
In the dusty old gadda.

Warm dreams,
Bright in colour,
Waiting for the world
To change,
Five minutes,
ten minutes,
Hours.

When it did,

Those bright dreams turned dark,

And day turned evening.

The sun beams turned the dust

Orange,

And then invisible.

The sky was pale dark blue,

And somewhere

People could see the moon.

When the jolt came,

Time had slipped,

The world was cold.

No use

Holding the blanket tightly,

Closing those scared tired eyes,

Trying to bring what was,

In those dreams,

In that lost time. 

So as darkness fell,

Ever so lightly,

The blanket like a cloak

Was draped over shoulders,

To keep some of the warmth left.

It was time to leave.

Too late for goodbyes.

As memory slipped through the cracks

And settled as dust,

The cloak folded,

On the abandoned couch,

Absorbing

Ever so lightly,

Lost dreams and dust.