Her synderesis, for Tess, suggests there is no sin in less of dress, especially if its essence does bless steps of cheered swing releases. ; )

He had heard whispers amongst the herd, but, still, Ivan was indeed caught with his pants down—or, rather, his skin skilts skipped town?—when he awoke to find that he was the only antelope who did not elope—and that, now, amidst a lush hush, he was lone, lea was free, and, oddly enough, scape coated his nape like a hug of snug, remedying distancing, departing pull of rug. ; )

If you bug your lady in her happiest place one too many times, expect a deserved castigatory reply—even one that rhymes.

As well…

If your garden’s ladybug dances upon each floral feat it climbs, expect its celebratory jig to create rain days for wind chimes. ; )

Polly heard a gentlest whoosh as her pursed lips breathed life to blows via push.

Then, she heard a subtlest schloop as each bubble departed its soapy loop.

And, of course, she heard all joyfulest whees from kids downwind the brushing breeze.

But, sans an uber-mic, she knew not that when they pop, they verily skrike. ; )

“Nevermore shall I scavenge a French soiree

Where they serve too much galantine and pâté—

For texture contrasts yield treats tastily new;

Hence, this instead bread just needs some Brie fondue.” ; )