I shall tell you a short story,
A story that is short,
A brief moment of wonder,
A single amazing thought.
A story so short,
In a life so long,
But are they forgotten?
Are they tiny gusts of inspiration,
Which blow gently by your face?
Or are they incredible memories of delight,
Treasures to be stored in the bank of brain?
Stories are to be pondered about,
Discussed, debated, compared,
Yet short stories, stories of short,
These are a glimpse of something greater,
Not to be changed, or tampered with,
Only to be accepted as what they are,
No, a short story cannot be written wrong,
Or thrown away by the hands of another,
Or wasted, destroyed or laughed at,
Or be cheated, cast aside, forgotten,
Nor half-finished, left alone, given up,
Perhaps these short stories represent life, then?
We all have one, we all need one,
They are unique, as are we,
A 1-page tale in a multi-million page book of treasuries.
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