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The Girl Who Sold The Stars
Beneath the aching winter’s shroud,
A child walked mute through the bustling crowd.
Her feet, bare whispers on the frozen stone,
Her ribs a harp of hunger’s tone.
She carried a box, her treasure, her thread
Of tiny star-sticks, sulfur-fed.
She called to the rich, the hurried, the gray,
“Buy one, kind sir, and light your way.”
But no one paused, no coin was tossed,
...Wednesday 25th December 2024 9:27 am
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