The morning sky was reflecting in the water of this old tin bucket.
In this small container, in which it felt as if another world was held; cool, clear, uncluttered and pure.
This world didn't have the workday rush, nor the stresses of everyday life.
It was perfection in a mangled pot. Unblemished bliss in a cracked vessel.
I wish I could dive into this bucket.
Wow! You've write an impromptu poem,
I've voted and followed you @thebored1
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An old tin bucket inspires poetry... Nice :D
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