So this is influenced by a rather small happening that happened today.
I wanted to write some bad poetry about something else but instead I wrote bad poetry about said happening.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Dust once still shifts
It flows away
It moves from its home
Objects long standing lift
Stir particles and force
Into a float and drift
Disturbance remains
Until the room is drained
A slow and steady action
Repeated for all shapes
To transfer them elsewhere
To create a new old
The dust settles
In an uneasy space
Filled with recalling
The memory of shapes