Kip was as the reminiscent chalice to behold, she abbreviated to the bountiful nascent flowers, each petal withdrew the lustful evenings spiral, endearing the chalice a dewdrop from the informal wombat, dressed in attire, made to enfold with earrings and ties. The flower, a lover, suppressed with each a adorning dewdrop, wrote passages of entwining the radiant with a gem marked earth. Breath bespoke to ground the impassable mile, distance were the measured ochre gemstone, garnish to those closing out time, the stone set by a begone patronage.

The dial moved her love for the ocean, circumnavigating the breach for time, elevation restored to the boardwalk, comely they knew not the interjecting braids, exposure to those distant shores, wept with the repleninshed sorrow. Carving out the well rounded hours, breaking snow for the media, enclosed wheels for the senate, aglow the flower slipped another sundial, enclosing the mealy taste of a fortuitous day.

The upturned cover, worded a page Kip the Femme Kangaroo couldn’t have wrote, awake to his exile, sent the editorial land a lover Samuel anew, armed with the pictorial magazine, laden the very shell we spoke of. Those refracted in set dewdrops, claimed Kip a respite, the wheel churned the imported produce, stone set for land, the Kangaroo aligned the ballot, artesian springs, mapping starry nights, the stone set ochre landfall, bathing rivers of petals. Cloaking lost pastures, Samuels destination were to the cover story, ministerial buildings networking print by desire, recourse made recoverable by the placid forgeries of time.

2025 Adam Blewett ©