Life.

The dust settles
With purpose.

Its job is to display how

Forgotten

Things have become over these years.

Time has passed leaving its grubby finger marks
In the soft creases.

There are too many pages
Paragraphs
Words
Letters

To recollect anymore.

I watch the toddler from the window.
Unbalanced legs
Hands stretched out
Gurgling.

And I yearn for such life.

I cradle her
And stop finding it fascinating

And start realizing, accepting
That life

Just

is