For the 'Poetry Comes in All Kinds of Shape' Poetry Contest of Vanya Evengaline
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April's come and gone. Now May is here; the grains in the hourglass have already started sifting down. Dew is on the roses. Days of linking daisies will soon begin. Transparent skies of night will show constellations when the fire-breathing dragon comes to freckle school-sprung children, who baring skin, will run with glee through sprinklers. Soon enough the kids will be tumbling in leaves fallen from the trees of their back yards, and then following bright autumn's demise, the filtering of seasons' sand quickens till every grain has drifted like snow, burying another year. May is on her way; again the hourglass, like magic, is turned over.
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