A hundred years she watches
So proud of her first days, guarding
Fresh, clean, white, protecting the ground
She knows not why she is there
For her it is not important to know
Born at the hands of man
Years passing by and skin becoming grey
Soiled with contamination of age
Smoke from factoriesPollution from cars
But remaining, steadfast and not noticing
That many of her companions are removed
Not protected from centennial changes
Her purpose forgotten
Once the watcher of a departed
And now herself departedOne day to be put in a corner and forgotten forever
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