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Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Assistant

Whilst I sit by and watch my craft
Be writ, be made, be dyed and cast

I sit outside the circle and
Wish just for once they’d let me in.

Instead, nonesuch, I’ll bide my time,
‘til one day this will sure be mine.

But times I find it’s hard to wait…
I idle by, to hope for fate

As if one has some grand control
Of how the gods my life they dole.

How foolish I to think such things…
I wait, instead, while curtains cling.

But all import to keep in sight
That mine someday the circle might

Then I’ll peek out and wish me free
To look again within and dream

10/16/08

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