Poem: Dust To Dust.
Dust To Dust.
.
At work, my friend was sitting
In the desk across from mine,
We’d both worked there for ages
Our relationship was fine.
.
I like my wooden pencils
Just as sharp as sharp can be,
So only hypodermic points
Are sharp enough for me.
.
One day, this friend of many years
Said “Throw a pencil here,
I need to make some margin notes
They’ve made mistakes I fear”.
.
I threw across my latest point
Much sharper then the rest.
Although I aimed towards her hand
It stuck into her chest.
.
She looked aghast, and full of pain,
Gave out the weirdest sighs,
Then went all strange and crumpled down
To dust, before my eyes.
.
.
