
Steps in wet mirror mood.
Even a picaroon’s fumbled coin will be passed—for no need to be brewstered when inside is skewered.
Enough time traipsing through tears turns into an ironically irenic task.
When a sunny disposition is too bright, a fulvous one can feel just right.
Catharsis of blues woos shoes through the puddling of woes ready to lose. ; )
Leave a Reply