Dusty
In a dark corner, opposite of the room
Sits a man, straight and smiling
His face, young and warm
His hair, dark and dressed
His brown eyes.... Hold more...
Such is the fire that all eyes confessed
He always dresses nice
A gentleman, kind and generous
He's smart, talented, fit
And helps all who need him
He appears to you as happy
But those eyes... What have them?
He looks to you across the room
Asks:"What do you see, sir?"
"What image does your eye hold
When you look upon me?"
You stare at this odd young man
Then the eyes he holds turn dusty
This man then turns old
His face droops and grays
His hair cringes and twists
His eyes turn brown to black
Scars settle on his arms and face
Then spread all to his back
The man, tattered, walks to you
The dust trails behind him
He looks at you into your eyes
"Do you see what I see?"
"Do you see the fiery image?"
"Do you see the flame that engulfs me?"
See the young man turn old
See the sharp dress turn ragged
See the clean skin turn scarred
See the metal hair turn rusty
See the man's eyes, once bright, now burned
See a great image, turn black and dusty