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Mary was ten and she adored flowers, and she had three pretty sisters; But, she never could make a garden grow; like stars, losing jade glitter. Sisters Sarah, Martha and Alice spoiled Mary, for she was the youngest; Just as lime spring is youngest of the seasons, whereas winter is darkest. Mary desired a flower garden to tend, where purples and reds met teal; And lush fragrance was the new normal, like a grape sun leaving, for real. But contrary Mary was so impatient, and would not follow practical rules; Not weeding, and adding excess or too little water-foiling nature's jewels! Fuchsia evenings brought out fireflies, sparkling fulgently, prior to fading; And fabled, sapphire morning fetched friends, like red butterflies invading. Fine fiddlers were playing hushed August, when fluffy clouds roamed gold; And family came from afar, midst summer fever; as lemony time slowed. They lived in the house of old jade, with lawns and willows surrounding it. It was full of love of Mama and Papa; and awaited sunset skies, chocolate. Rain and radiance each had mauve reign, as red robin sang of afternoon, On the road of tea green roses, that lent gaiety under sunshine and moon. Neighbors glided amidst firefly nightlights, at nocturnal dark's nomination, Bringing news of a cream, yellow noontide, through nougat conversation. Angry orchid blooms fussed over the heat, in a summer of sweet Williams, When pitcher plants were quenching thirst, 'ere stars emerged by millions. Cool shadows licked lemon lollipop plants, of grateful, gracious afternoon; As Dragonfly Lily got garbed in purple, aware a full moon was coming soon. Mary had grown somewhat blue, because her effort at a garden had failed, So, her clever sisters offered to help, and soon colors and fumes prevailed! Overjoyed Mary worked in the garden daily, beside sweet sunflower sisters. Contrary no more, she'd learnt discipline, as a howling wind soon whispers. They enhanced the garden with silver bell wind chimes, and cockle shells; And the beauty came to be noted; like all purple daisies, during hot spells. A friend, aware of Mary's tries at gardening, said while chuckling one day, 'Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?' Huge red bouquet! 'With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row,' said Mary, As beaming, she indicated her lovely sisters, adored like sunshine on a cherry!
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