Would be a good child's thing,
A canopic jar the size of your thumb,
Engraved with birds flying,
The top spins off and it's very well made,
The metal's cold to touch,
If you smoke weed it'd be perfect for that,
You'd hardly see it sitting in a hutch,
But mom didn't smoke, and she's in there too,
At least a part of her,
Not that I cannot be apart from her,
She'd certainly concur,
It's just for now,
Until she's in a tree,
Sucked up by roots from the soil she's mixed in,
Then that jar could be used to hold your weed.
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