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Night At The Museum
Green glass cases,
locked and bound with brass.
Every item sleeping their last.
Born in a factory,
made my hand long ago.
Cared for a crafted slow
by hands that aged and died.
Now at rest, they sleep inside.
Displayed by day,
but lying quiet each night,
here in the soft yellow green bulb light
of the museum.
Watched but unused.
Beautiful and old.
With interest admired,
but outdated,
and retired.
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