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The Lost Gold

Brian Bunguswa

I picked a stone so precious-
A gold they said.
But unrefined i thought it was,
I threw it in the furnace;
To extract a medal so honoured.
But a coal it became,
Fragile, breaking at the slightest touch.
The precious stone was no more,
I picked another, a nut they said;
Not like the lost gold-
That burnt in the furnace,
Never to return.

(C) Brian Bunguswa
07/26/2019


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