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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.