franwords

By franwords

August 3, 2012

Category: picture, poetry, writing

2 Comments »

Sean hadn’t viewed beyond the fives for a while, so by accident there was a great epic on the DVD channel.  What luck, but this would reimpose the ban for future tension; no smooth charisma for boo how.

Cynthia relayed that she would like to hint at a million best intentions.  She dotted her teas with skimmed and crossed her lies and promptly fell in love.  Yes to bags and scally wags; she was cued to receive.

Breton wished he could dance during the program, as he wished he could relax in silence.  he was the wrong shade of bald and hadn’t been partying.

The string quartet are large; not enough screws

The clue on the puzzle seized the immersion

Survival is thick with noses; various instances

Dull pack the detective; inasmuch to think so

I think I might be a dictator

Aye

I think I might hate a dictator

Aye

I think I might stay here

Aye; the world is your oyster

The plant often changed, but the message was engaged.  Some for a hug, some for a glug; welcome to the roundabout.

Boast ha a fixture, just as a threat.  come born again to the likeness of contentment.

The coast was high for Barnaby roundabout; those were the days, so have a toffee.

Thanks

Was theirs indeed

Thanks

Was calming the planks

Jerry was the place for a chair.  He could offer cherries and wend with cats

Go on then; what happened to you?

Alberforce turned left and pulled up or the hitcher.  The choice for vans had been made in two thousand are below seven.  There was a lid on the roof with airplane windows.  The van set off again in a huff, reaching a destiny of fortyish styles.  It was 3 miles to Wanton.

All the way, or just the lorry park?

Alberforce knew, and voiced the choice.  He did his bit.  After that it was the evening, then the day before yesterday.  The graph had to know from Monday to Thursday and then repeal.  The company was lightening to do an expression.