One waits delicately, preferring a larger carriage. A morning awash is worth it. Maybe the light will come and maybe it won't of course. The silver scree though, always.
The weather commences! One dreams of tomatoes, of a tractor working hard at the street's north end. Delicious prose? The appetite is for Heaven, not for less.
I love you on a vintage map. Will you follow a spurious valentine? The garage door grew faint after all that sunlight. We are not holding hands, we are not dreaming of a lax movie in a room with sloping floors.
The days pass like white skates and lace remains. You can keep your ornithology, I'm happy with a feathery language. Does the sun have an understudy? I do however thank you for replying to my earlier note.
The clock sings and the refrigerator hums and outside the front yard frog teases the sinking moon. You'll be the best sunbeam ever! One tosses seed, another composes with weeds. You fill my heart - inconsistently - with dancing commas.