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I hear them plink and plunk as they
are bouncing down the narrow track
that borders sanity. Dismay
creeps in - I cannot bring them back!
Their polished echoes click behind,
as though to sassily salute
the postured rostrum in my mind
where strident thoughts have now turned mute.
Perhaps there's some conveyer belt
I could have built, to hold them in?
Or looped a net of pliant felt
so they could safely roll and spin?
But hindsight doesn't help at all
when wanly watching marbles fall!
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