Dust

The 18^th century mahogany shoe rack,

 finally spilled. Ivory worms savoring on

hollow bones and crimson innards,  

reduced to Dust on fine Italian leather.

A rabbit thump and good as new.

An aging loafer leaves rotten remains,

a lingering musty smell, gathers Dust.

He never thumps, He limps, spreads it far

On grass, wet and never trampled before.