Dust

When it becomes too personal will I miss it?
Will the light bounce softly over footprints
yesterday tracked in the carpet or will it
shine too brightly, highlighting the stubborn
stains worn into my fiber?

When it becomes too personal will I shift
heavy in my chair and look away, consumed
by worry that someone may open the closet
or sneak under the beds, finding the dirty dishes
old pizza boxes and tootsies roll wrappers I
hurriedly stashed there. Will the light shift and
fall open the dirty fingerprints someone's kids
left on my virginal window panes?

When it becomes too personal will sigh deeply
exhaling regret and fear as they wander over
to peer at the stains in my sink, wondering
exactly which brand of mint we prefer?

Will I miss it?

Miss the opportunity to shine brightly; to be a lamp
where You shine threw to our guest.