A House Of Dust

a House of Dust, knows the wind that gathers. Savanna our home fair oaks unlike the rest of my dear Georgia. Our prayers for you my each and as I reach for that one speacial daisy. Butter cups held up under your chin, how does it go when your chin is so yellow. Gathered around all of you pecans and pie enough goes around, each one thin slice for you, nanna holds for you. Can you follow the bee to it's far away hive, did it sting you? pull it out be on your way around the oak to where it is cut. Take care with the fire it may spread throught the brush, do not forget your bucket of water. Walking up the old steps they creak and they bend, nails rusted a few heads missing. Thr front door lies open and the leaves move off down the hall and out through the back, dust devils stir memories old photo graphs piles of old envelopes hold the shadow of death. Many now gone, some once called home. Only I know these things moving through them.