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The Kiln by Judy DePauw "Is not the cup that holds your wine the |
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| I am molded | |
| By the joy of meeting, | |
| Fired in the sorrow of goodbye. | |
| Each dull day repeats the last. Each night | |
| I pray time will reduce to embers | |
| The white flame of the kiln! | |
| Did you think I would remain unchanged? | |
| It is as though, wondering alone, | |
| I stooped to pick up | |
| A shiny piece of broken glass, | |
| And holding it skyward, | |
| I saw my world | |
| Go from sky blue to emerald green. | |