What should I do with the watered dust?
Soak its colour
Smell the rust
Such unforgiving powder.
So I scatter
While eyes look on
To a heart that matters
Pages under rain.
But in the time that is left
I do not remember
The taste I once kept
Paid in milk and honey.
I will cherish the light
Touch the rough splinters
Hammer nails with might
Into the cross of answers.
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Written for Poets United
