Dust coats the surface of a place

I used to know well—a place

of intrigue, imagination,

and the truth

that we are not alone

While these particles collect and build

up, and up, and up

We continue to look down,

not seeing around us the destruction

of distraction, the heartbreak of isolation

The bitter truth that while we are not

physically alone, we are emotionally gone

from the days of cooking in the kitchen

with grandma, hands caked in flour.

Building tree forts, skinned knees—

of silence in the sunrise.

I’ve heard the alarm bells go

off in my mind, I’ve noticed

the dust and the debris of a life

previously lived

A voice has yelled into the wind,

yet I heard it as a whisper—

“I took the road less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”