Insects collect when nectar sensually, organically reflects on the mirrors that see silk vines!

Skin dips with the fingers that hold hips like canvases of thickness, whine as the wine shines.

Honey bees can't feed without purified skies, hear the sarcasm in my voice and make a sacrifice!

Don't trim my garden; don't have enough dragonflies to criticize fertile moans that come with this merchandise?