Exotic moss neglected the tongues of vain voices like the syringe of monstrous roots.
Ginger insisted once more that she had nothing to do with the solemn affairs of exhausted bounties betrayed by the king of absence. Absinthe was another story altogether–and sometimes all apart, but the cinnamon rolls were still warm and dripping with guile and butter, and frosted with rendered consequences of feline pride. Peter found the lox box in the throes of the wood stack, under three cords of next winter’s warmth, but the lox box was locked and Peter had no key, so he looked to the sky and wondered what the light was that approached from the northern horizon. Floating above his own body, Peter heard Paul admonish him to not run toward the light, and he flashed a key to catch Peter’s attention.
Ginger said with a tongue of vain voices there is no such thing as alien abductions, but where have Peter and Paul run off to, and where is my locked lox box full of keys.
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If only Siegfried knew the Ring wuz in the Hot Cross Ginger Buns!
While Roy was always a fan of Ginger’s hot rings.
…..and sometimes all apart, but the cinnamon rolls were still warm and dripping with guile and butter, and frosted with rendered consequences of feline pride……
I question my own depth of thought, how many things I don’t know, and how familiar everything is for me,… I may be resting my mind while reading you.
Thank you, Love, nia
The resting is enough! 😀 From Master and Margarita: “He did not deserve the light, but he deserves rest.” I’ll take it!