Once I was the object of desire and the stuff of dreams.
People went out of their way to ensure they had me in their life.
I had colour. I was on show.
You see me now on the ground.
I am written off. I am stained. Most people walk past and do not notice I am there.
There was a journey to this place. I have a story to tell.
Once I was so wanted. Now I am merely useful. Soon, even that will be gone.
Splattered. Trodden on.
I have no voice.
Someone might notice me and wonder.
I am linking up with Prose for Thought and I encourage you to check out the other entries.
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N.B. This is my attempt at creative writing. It is no reflection on my current mood which is happy and upbeat. Can you guess what inspired it?