Box Of Dust Poem by Michael Shutt

A Box of Dust
Sits on my shelf.
Has sat,
For close
To three months now.

From Ides of March,
Until Mid June,
A Box of Dust
Sits on my shelf.

Behind closed door.

For three months
Of Eternity.

A Box of Dust-
In which,
Resides my Dad.
Did You think
Of this?

If so,
Your planning,
Dad,
Was really bad.

From snow filled March
To storm filled June-
You've sat upon
A shelf,
In Fed Ex Box,
In my spare room.

It's three weeks now
And I had never thought
That I would
Ever wish to pass
Through June's
MidSummer Night-

I do this year.

For Dad,
Your silence
On my shelf-

Frankly, Dad,

There's little
comfort there,

From that Box-

From that Dust-

Upon my shelf.