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Aware of my attention to her as well as my proximate presence, she went on in a steadily refined rhythm, neither upset nor uplifted, holding my slick sight at reducible ductility and scotching its sneak stretch. Synergic is the comfort of her tangible prandial posture, neither demure nor obtrusive, salvaging my inspirational flotsam and jetsam and restarting its transmigration from annihilation to arousal. She also seemed occasionally absorbed in her own line of thought, though not so deep as mine; Her immaculate teeth loomed out of her dapper mouth from time to time in accordance with their nibbling cadences, as if double arrays of pearls peeked from inside a neatly halved cherry breathing brisk budding breeze. Constantly perceptible was her calm attitude toward me, neither aloof nor outgoing, holding my flaming heart at controllable temperature and tempering its premature incalescence. Synergic is the tenderness of her intangible inner temperament, neither obvious nor occult, enriching my shriveled Hippocrene hue and enlightening its transfiguration from wanness to chatoyance.      

As the size of the servings on her platter dwindled, depleted, she deliberately finished her meal and left after spending a little while wiping and cleaning. Engrossed in her every move and my corresponding relished resonance, I'd been completely negligent of what food she had ordered, both the main dish and all the trimmings. On her table remained two slightly crumpled sheets of napkins without visible swiping trace, together with the spick-and-span tableware on the platter shining untouched grace. When across opacity shone a beam of brightness, when through aridity flowed a stream of ripeness, it was enough for me to parlay such flavor instead of merely applying myself to an insipid chat-up effort.     
                                    
                                     It works more wonders
                                  to cock your passion by pen
                                      than to cock a hen!
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