Prints of Persia

Across a flame in the prints there were steps wrapped up in an ology. 

The camps set petitions on suiting; too true for dull as trousers.  One summoned a bitch to steal a heart.  The bitch wore off with currant buns.  Stock of an after birth went for gold;   bronze that led a golden recovery.

Those were the days’ they convuluted, easing curls with cuddly jumpers.  Like Roman Bishops of Tesco, selected pains on restorative.  Lines of glandular punctures; descendants of chaos.  That’s why we had to organise, thought pug.  There were two sets of legs with stringent clumps of welsh leeks; founded bound an allotment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: