Small bits and fragments get swept away in the scurry of our lives only to be carried out to the bin on a dustpan.
Once they were an important part of the grand picture that was our life.
The tiny elements themselves neither know nor understand their fate.
No sparkles and without fanfare they are gone.
Only the memory of our tale remains - passing through the night sky of others.
1 comment:
Memories like things - recycled. Dust to Dust.
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