In the golden embrace of morning light,
Tiny particles take flight,
Whirling in a silent ballet,
In a room where shadows play.

Dust, like memories, old and deep,
In corners and crevices, they silently creep,
Carrying stories of days gone by,
Whispering secrets with a gentle sigh.

Each mote a universe, unseen,
A silent witness to what has been,
Floating freely, yet tethered to time,
Dancing to a rhythm, so sublime.

Through the beams of light, they glide,
In their ephemeral world, they hide,
Reminding us of the fleeting, the small,
In the grand tapestry of life, they call.