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Aurora MAG
In the dew-filled field of dawn,
 Within the inner atmosphere of darkness,
 From the flat, rigid horizon spawns
 The great ball of light intensity.
 
 Pink squeezes into the orange of day
 As it becomes her golden locks.
 The red roses become moist and fray,
 While heat dries them
 
 The rooster is the messenger, bringing her notice to all,
 Whilst the deer savages her tears for 
 its thirst.
 Insects manage to calm down their buzzing and crawl
 As she, the inching barrier of shine 
 crawls upward.
 
 Squinting children are awakened by her gleam and voice,
 And then summoned by her smell;
 The glorious smell of a mist's choice
 Mixed in with the natural orchid's scent
 
 Dear Aurora, only lasts for half-an-hour or so,
 Until the sun sets, hence appearing her foe.

