Stones

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The stones simply learned to get along. Some stayed with their own, while others strayed afar. Each was different and beautiful, pulsing their softened inner glow against the morning's sea mists. Fresh from a child's new dreams, smooth as the shine of rounded hopes, each stone collected once and again in the mind's jar of keepers, each the inevitable masterwork placed as stray moment of time, or as spectrums of rainfall over shadowy greys, or over endless hues of cool amber.

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