Requiem for a spark on wheatgrass towards a summer day in the moors of vanilla quaint

The right title will get you the prize

First place in professor magazine

Exact replica of a poem once said in raw passion

Whittled down to submit a form of acceptance in tweed overtones

Munching on finger sandwiches lightly clapping to assure not much notice

Tame all wild beast to fit a wild border well within our readership to not think too deeply beyond what’s hot

Preserving a lineage of passing the quill to what gives enough delight to be off putting

Not enough to challenge the design of the archetype conforming to nothing

I stand with my face barely breezy breaching fetal position on top of mosaics

Firmly gripping Wunderlist of feline decoration to seal the deal

Polite applause and all can go home happily vanilla on the moors of uniformity.

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