Open palm with yum is a cogent gesture worthy of a hop towards followed by a tongue lick for taste.

Gratitude for tucker is given, but daedal jumping is innate. Still, awe’s reward shall not go to waste.

This gruel can be used for bioremediation as well? If is not regurgitated, it might be a panacea, no doubt.

Out-of-this-world snack pleases. Like chewy moon rocks, its green-cheese flavour merits no pout. ; )


I am corgi. Give me treat. Speculate not if it is deserved. Remember, I have access to your sleeping feet.

What? You think I *need* you to hand it to me? No. I am just being polite. I am quite skilled in using technacy with your phone and credit card to have delivered a yummy bite.

If you are suggesting my puppy-dog face is not twisting your heart to acquiesce to my request, I know you will serve my needs if I cosplay as the queen mother in her Sunday best.

Oh, now, there is no need to feel fellifluous just because you are owned by a furry tyke. I still kind of am okay with you and will let you massage my bum and ears even if you do not like. ; )


Hidden sun of the sky not yet free from clouds, please come out to play. Else, how will horses know to wake and get their provender of golden oats and hay?

Sporades of the nighttime hours are deftly dulled by hazy airs. But, you are goddess of this world and can shine through darkest dares.

Some believe zeroes are ideograms representing void and null, but optimists know they depict stretching suns, illuminating those spelled under woolen pull.

So, boody not if greys float by to up-mottle the canvas for which one had yearned; best gifts always start wrapped before they bright–a lesson life tends to need to constantly relearn. ; )


Butterfly’s charm is resplendent enough, but its reflection provides auxiliary warmth worth cheer as well.

Catching the mirror may be a greater challenge than netting the real one. Even if today was date for naprapathy, do not shift too quick else betterment may be done.

Prismatic flutterer finds no sugared water to sip for snack, disappointed in the Barmecidal stack. Though, twin amongst the shadows sates and sates.

Then, the copy flies towards you and with arms up, hands over face, it lands on your oxter, tickling too, meriting a scream-chortle from gaped case–for both illusion and reality live in the same space. ; )

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