23.April.26

Lady of twirliest tutus

Adorning scarlet door as muse

Awaits partner in drab wamus

With whom she will artfully loose

From any non-dancing excuse

So as to belay pending blues

With ballet babe he did so choose

For framing vogue in floor-start views. ; )

22.April.26

“Ay, caramba!” rolled both doggo’s eyes and the thoughts behind them.

“Is it not naughty to make me go potty in wet leaves of a lawn rather than under eaves of zaguan?”

“Dios mio,” sighed pup in poncho. “What’s next?” “Will din’s marrow bone be nixed for gazpacho?” ; )

21.April.26

Kiki approached the alley—marked by a charcoaled cat whose visage seemed to imply it had been the recipient of more undesired luck than it had portended. Natheless, she set forward forth, shortly after which a glimmer from the walk called her attention to what was surely an assurance of street’s truly serendipitous nature. As she brought it closer for inspection, she initially felt fooled by her hopefulness, having let the shine of such brockage deceive its worth. Her unfamiliarity with its face, though, prompted her to pocket it, purposing protection of its peculiarity. Upon reaching her destination—borough’s bakery, she procured list’s three loaves and, then, as she walked to register, wondered if her extra coin might afford a croissant for snack. The cashier’s eyes squinted, dilated, and, then, she reached under the counter, retrieving an envelope in which she secured afternoon’s find, returning it to payee with a mother’s look. Walking home the same way she had come—well, tempoed to more of a skip, Kiki held tight to the [repocketed] wrapped disc, the warmth of her hand slowly softening nubs off the paper. And, in the other hand, she happily enjoyed bites of her croissant—twixt boot taps of her homebound jaunt. ; )