On a hot summers eve close to the twighlight,

the marble of crimson came rolling down past sight.

Misty clouds coating the ever changing sky.

birds whistle their last tune before slumber calls them.

Stars begin to light.

Soon it will be night.

Close to the twighlight.

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Swaying flowers,

passing hours,

birds in evergreens

happy smiles,

worth your whiles

and sappy little trees

muddy faces,

fraying laces,

and a gentle summer breeze

swaying flowers,

passing hours,

making memories

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