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Barnaby Atkins
Poems
Aug 2015
The foolish jeweller
And so the foolish jeweller played
With rocks, minerals
Dirt that made
Precious gems
Time forged:
For ears to listen
For fingers to feel
For necks to hang above our hearts
For engaging a promise
For a gift
Or memory
Cut, processed
And boxed for a fee
True
gems
Come from within
A soul mined
deeply
A journey begins
Written by
Barnaby Atkins
Hassocks
(Hassocks)
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