she is a woman fond of cleaning <br />dust and dirt and <br />almost everything that <br />makes this house dirty <br /> <br />or herself, her hands <br />her clothes and the <br />furniture that she keeps <br />on dusting <br />almost everyday <br /> <br />she slides her fingers <br />on the table and screens <br />the surface for dusts <br />and she thinks <br />this world must <br />be free <br />from dusts <br /> <br /> <br />she keeps dusting and dusting <br />and tonight <br />she sleeps <br />deep into <br />a slumber where <br />she does not wake up <br />anymore <br /> <br />she turns to dust <br />and the wind blows her away at last<br /><br />Antonio Liao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dusts/
