Behind a pane of glass I sit
Strangers capture my image
Stroak my smooth oak frame
In class rooms global
My demure discussed
My father thought me beautiful
I had a smile bright
Yet slowly did it fade
Stolen by my many admirers
Many wars and joy have I seen
Sometimes displayed, a crown
jewel
Others hidden in the shadow
Thousands of years old
Yet may beauty remains
Till time itself shall end
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