Peteroo's Blog

Object of affection in the mirror, is reflection a lunker or a shrunk her?

Milieu beneath the sea seen, is the scene both piscatorial and pastoral?

Lady leaned on stones securiform, will terra tear your peaces to pieces?

Sky of air for breaths to share, will you abbreviate breeze’s kisses?

Alice alive in a state of wonder, as whys arrive, feat of feet will, for a sun-wise, you arise. ; )

Some lips red merit envy green, but they never warrant pinches unseen.

Crwths at fleadh cheoil churn an Irish mood. Add a sexy bite for luck from the tiny jig-a-dude.

Sharing a sip from this cup will provide no buzz. Though, neither will it stopple effects of elixirs of lovey-luzz.

Where greenth exhibits the vitalities of life, its complementary hue bears fruits of passion as an ideal wife. ; )

Tulips both vivid and bold have been timelily received—a punctilio for a floral service promising punctual deliveries, especially of a brick-and-mortar retronym of a store in a digital-and-downloadable milieu that is oft susceptible to more scarewares than Care Bears kind enough to relay with haste rather than lick clean gluey cups of paste while petals wilt to waste. ; )

Precipitation resembles snow, but is, indeed, a shake of astroparticles instead—only visible in dreams to birds of spiked beaks with striped heads. Such a mirage is no prodrome requiring a visit with a vet; many oneiric scenes merit no worry as dreams will only ephemeral angst beget. Albeit a linear bill suggests otherwise, merry king of the bush [sic] has kin chortling on the inside regarding celestial pieces falling down less nano and more wide. ; )

Habitué of scarf store has interpolated silver eyes twixt plaid plies. Stare of amour fou points at stitches, whether of glitches or riches. Transilience moves observation across neck-laces as mind marks each as needing confesses or blesses. ; )