Dust

Dust on the blinds

That block my eyes

From the sight

Of the powder

That lines the sides 

Of driveways and lanes

And keeps you from being

Home on time

The same two albums on repeat

For the millionth time

I’m not complaining

And the choice wasn’t even mine

But I complain of the snow
That is to be shoveled

And the dust

That I must 

Remove from these blinds

That insist on

Being dirty

Saturday after saturday

When all I want to do is play

Dust on the blinds

The kind that 

I don’t want to move

Because it’s from skin

Other than mine

I say I’ll clean it

But I don’t make the time

Because it’s dust

And it’ll come back in a while

Maybe I’d clean them

If I had a song 

To remind me that they 

Need to be clean

But I won’t 

Cuz they don’t

Dust on the blinds

For a glimpse

Before it’s ripped

From the home where it resides

This time

Quickly

Quickly before it can hide

But not because you care

For it to be clean

But for all the extra time

It becomes something 

In which you take pride

Because a home isn’t dirty

A home should be tidy

But you realize

When he was 8

And he was 5

And the dust stayed there

Because you left him in charge

But he left it there

Because he didn’t really care

And all he could think of

Was the snow, glowing

From his view through the window

Not thinking that he would grow

Too old to play in the snow

It might still be there

That dust from their

Skin, and from their hair

Because somebody didn’t clean

The blinds while John Mayer

Sang, Stop This Train

Too fascinated by the gleam

Of the snow, in the land of the plains.