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And the little girl sat huddled, hunched

Intently staring, glaringly gazing into

The tiny star found in her hand.

And as she watched it, selfishly,

Sharing it with only she, it grew and

By its gleamings could be seen, the

Tinier mimicked stars within her eyes.

 The Star in its growings…swelled, blazing bright…

Upon her life and making naked her very soul.

She started, at its new sizes and her awareness of it,

But knew its wonder was hers and hers alone.

But then; she heard the Star’s bright voice…

Calling to her crisp and clear, to share its light

With others, also, that they might know its measure.

And quickly clasped were her jealous child-hands

About the Star-jewel, shutting off all but faint

Glimmerings that escaped at random.

And quickly placed was the small bright wonder; and,

As quickly shut was the small chest’s lid; and,

On the high shelf behind the rag doll was

The chest-tomb carefully laid and hid.

Years, as ages, passed then…and next found her

Older, grayer…wanting…and

Brought her to her past, in person,

To bear her attic room in tears.

But by chance she touched the tattered ragdoll;

And, gasped, as it tipped and fell….forgotten

As she saw the chest and leaped to own it

And know the Star’s wonder once again…

…She turned the latch and bent the hinges

(Rusted now by the seasons’ changes)

And found only cold air…wantings…

.....and her own emptiness.

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