write a poem on pottery-my hobby
it's urgent
and pls don't scam
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Some turn white, and others green
Once turned purple, another blue
Some change shape and I have seen them
Moving round my shelving, too
Moving round my shelving, tooTheir colour patterns shift and change.
Every day's a new surprise
They even curl up at the edges and
End up marbled like the sky
End up marbled like the skyThe secret colours of white loaves
I keep a secret in my head.
For no one else on earth but me
Is the collector of sliced bread.
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