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Ruined



All is dirt, all is dust,
we only did what we thought we must,
what we could, or understood,
what we never dreamed we would.
Whatever we did or didn't do,
we started with a sky so blue
and left it gray:
we come to ruin, then fade away.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.