The spirit and the bucket

There once was a spirit who carried a heavy bucket

Filled to the brim with gems of sorts

One by one she picked out the gems

They shone bright in the spirit’s gaze

Held each one with tender care

Savoured the warmth and the brightness rare

 

With each chime of the clocks of the world

The gem in hand lost its sparkle

Not to be undone by the clocks of the world

She dropped the first gem back in the bucket

And picked up the next one, shaped like a fruit

It shone bright in the spirit’s gaze

(She let the brightness fill her up)

Only to lose the shimmer,

 To the chime of the clocks

The game went on for chimes and chimes

And

The spirit reached for the first gem once more

It shone bright in the spirit’s gaze

The clocks of the world chimed again

 

 

bucket

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