The weathered glass sat in the rain

Edges chipped 

Color removed

All of its life held times, not new today

The  satin glass lay in the sun

Drinks so many

Held within its well 

Only a few found out, what to tell

The priestly vessel cloaked in gems

Was polished and held in official hands

And there it spoke of heavens demands

But itself never left human lands 

The child’s cup was empty again

Only the hope of new times

Would make it fun

But at nightfall, when all was quite

Only the sound of hunger bellowed

From another’s garden

All in all, time has taken

The good and bad of the glasses


What kind of glass are you?

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