Dust

If you go through my trash today,
Most of what you'll find is valueless junk:
Empty bags of potato chips,
Used and discarded q-tips,
And wadded up pieces of gum.
But if you look deeper you will find
Three crumpled up pieces of paper
Torn from a journal--
Three poems, all entitled "For Lucy."
Once these poems had for me the value
Of a treasure trove,
For they stored all of the possibility
Of our love.
But now I see, the love was nothing
But a dream,
The treasure trove just an empty room.
Oh, that love could be naught more
Than a shout from the bottom of a well!
Silenced, and never to be returned.
These papers will turn to dust,
And soon, I will, too.
Be free then, dream of love!
As dust, may you find not only love,
But also, Truth!