Anthophilous*

My heart beat so fast I almost missed her whisper “I’m your cocktail hour.”

The first time I drank her colour, I hovered above her wondering the best way to approach her delicate petals. Finally I dove, and emerged dripping in her juice. Continue reading

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Wixed Mords

“Did I tell you I’m a funambulist?”

“Where did you train?”

“In bed of course.” Harry winked, his gold filling twinkling in his grin.

“How do you balance in bed?”

“What?”

“I assume you practiced a lot to be a funambulist. Maybe six inches to start then gradually adding more?”

“No, I started with a long stroll. I was never one for perambulating about the bush.”

“Do you have special shoes?”

“For sleepwalking?”

“On a highwire?”

“What are you talking about, Lady?”

“Oh, Harry. You’re a somnambulator, not a funambulist!” By the way, did I tell you I’m an expostulate?”