“Fine Power”

Like the dust that silently and very gently falls through a ray of sunlight
Particles that disappear quietly and too quick
In our view for a matter of slow seconds

We never see where they decide to fall or if they know where they’ll land
But for a moment they bring a speck of beauty into the room

There is nothing more pleasant, yet destroying, than our memories
With flashes of streets, pubs and clubs
The guilt of what could have been
Of what should have been…

The light still holds me transfixed, perplexed and so I’m shackled to a fading star
Watching the drop from daylight into night time
And they will never let me go until I am dust too.





© 2008 Steven Pottle