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Poem #197

Like an old, forgotten fountain here
I stand. Once I shined in all of my splendor
and filled with life and now I am drained.
No more water, no more admire.
My edges are jagged, the bright, white
color began to look gray. You can see the
cracks but I felt them a long time ago
because they always start on the inside
before emerging to the surface. Will anyone
recognize there’s still life in this fountain and
toss a coin to make a wish?

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