Chloe collected caps for community’s children’s cuisine, a curiosity for catallactics considering commutations consistently chipped in to complimentary cheer, continually choice-cancelling coins to coffer. ; )

A place for a pair to fall.

In love,

By leaves.

Between

Sniggler—

More of amore’s than a moray’s catch—

And

Snoggler—

Snuggler’s preferred state with a fevered match.

Let each of hearts rise.

Amidst warmed whorls’ byes.

Near.

Watching ochres set.

Dear.

Holding long-lost get. ; )

Look, mum, I understand that discovering mouse in house implies cat off lap

And I am sorry that adding cotignac to cheese did not sweeten the trap,

But practicing some capturing in this show of snow is just quite out of whack—

For my mittens are, now, ice-bitten and flakes have frosted over every track.

So, please, can we return to home and—instead of kill—offer it a love pat?

Because, if rat is chill and you take your pill, that back nap will still thrill this cat. ; )

Let me be upfront about my front, for which feelings are quite frontless: that which lies bare—between scenes of my hair and derriere—remains behind this comforting blind only because your kind of mind is but a behind—to which these bodacious breasts are just fine as disinclined. ; )

Butterfly out of my business!

You should know, per the pollinators’ onomasticon, that bees—apex alighters—precede birds—blossom bidders—precede but thee—crossing crasher—regarding daisy dibs!

Let it be so, then, lepidopteran, from a bee’s CYA: X you! Zzzz! ; )