Distant contribution at the unspoken thought in translation, a fortified soliloquy. With an age no more, to my daily charter, they had found enterprising the minutes to hourly insight, with a puzzle heaped tall. Found to unarmed canter, justifiably ignorance, the lapsing hour and my evidence framed a love for twice they the aging heart. The unfiltered silent squeeze of lemon, upon the empty hours strike, contestable to general health, familiarity remiss to exertion, a clattering at words. With resource hereafter, redolent the Giraffe in affable measures; assurance your need, will adore to the contributing of lemon juice from lemon trees, next to season, imploring my Giraffe.

2020 Adam Blewett ©