I love the sound of marbles
scattered on the worn wooden floor,
like children running away in a game of hide-and-seek.
I love the sight of white marbles,
green marbles, black,
new marbles, old marbles,
with glass-ribboned swirls,
dancing round and round.
I love the feel of marbles,
rolling freely in my palm,
like smooth-sided stars
that light up the worn world.
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