That day,
I sat to write a poem,
Looked at the horizon.
Some mischievous child,
While playing,
Had glued colourful paper flowers,
Spilled a bottle of glue,
Forgot all about it,
Was engrossed in his play.
The horizon would not change.
The day would not turn a leaf.
This fear gripped me.
Suddenly
He poured an ink bottle,
Filled the sky with stars,
And laughed!
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