imagination
Jst how to spend an Evening,
Whose pendulant gazing moon and stars,
Sit on its assign'd positions,
The blue EvenInG sky,
With ITS little showers of rain,
Sauced with a cool riding winds,
which creeps up like a little butterfly,
And climbing into the balcony,
like an unwelcom'd thief,
Soaking your thoughts in thousands of fantasy,
While fingering through those,
Black oily shiny flying hairs,
Brushing those soft lips,
And smashing against your cheek softly,
With its ambient shrillness,
Causing your liver to shiver,
Time as this are rare,
But sometimes this fantasies belong to the lovers.
Whose pendulant gazing moon and stars,
Sit on its assign'd positions,
The blue EvenInG sky,
With ITS little showers of rain,
Sauced with a cool riding winds,
which creeps up like a little butterfly,
And climbing into the balcony,
like an unwelcom'd thief,
Soaking your thoughts in thousands of fantasy,
While fingering through those,
Black oily shiny flying hairs,
Brushing those soft lips,
And smashing against your cheek softly,
With its ambient shrillness,
Causing your liver to shiver,
Time as this are rare,
But sometimes this fantasies belong to the lovers.
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