The golden dust that sweeps,
Away every evening,
No one seems to be noticing,
The way it flies,
And settles down along the
The rosy rim of the leaves.
.
It has none to express its feeling with
It settles on the edge of the door--that's it.
.
Searching beyond,
And staying ever long,
It is thrown away from every corner.
.
Still saying,
Having no Identity,
Only surviving in nature's Natural Bounty,
From dawn till dusk,
And away from elephant's tusk,
Just sweeps its away from daylight...
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