Breathing and cracking like an egg in a bowl.
Weaving and jumping up and down it survives,
In old and new ways coming up in a haze.
Cheeky and false, breaking its fall,
In stories are told,
In the folds of a paperback,
Lathered in fortune and singing,
Papers and writing sheets,
Mistakes and misprints,
Cautioned and concrete,
Brinked and barnacled
Tempered and placed in
That special spot.
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