The Scent of Sonnet

The scent of sonnet I was watching a TV program of Hercules Poirot the heroine in the plot had no **** and wore an evening dress with aplomb…. Clearly, she had not sat on a carpet in the forest of spring where the animal of love roams it is green as spring grass has a pink underbelly looks like a purring cat or a puppy that softly barks. It droplets of scents that make lovers enamoured for a day or so sadly there is always a tomorrow of regrets for some. If the woman with small **** happens to sit on a carpet in the glade she will fall in love and pad her bra and that is ok, why should she not enhance her lack this bagatelle when there are tringles of love in the air and if this does not help there is always divorce much a lonely the man is satisfied with a triangle