Found Poetry 990

3/25/22

we never saw dust unless it was sawdust
from feet on that wooden stage
bringing it to life in a whirlwind
stepping to lift what is flat

those seats like shells on a beach
each pair of eyes a drink

we cut the last curtain to pieces
treasure in our hands
no longer reaching

This poem was created from Walden by Henry Thoreau. Click here to get Walden.

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