Rags to Riches

How simple it must be, the life of a rock
ignoring the pulse of the tick and the tock
forgetting which dirty magazine it took
to read in bed in lieu of a book.
A rock with no shoes, no sandal, nor boot
Not even a rambling foot—
Like an artist, it has no need for food
Taking from the soil what is bad and what is good
Believing it could one day become something special, a piece of gold.

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