On the tip of my tongue -
cool water trickles...

She wore the latest fashion;
ebony lace, stiletto heeled...

I hang from the edge
of the pier, with your words...

He made her want to
dance with mythical creatures...

I heard ringing
somewhere in the distance...

It was before I was diagnosed
'peculiar' that he said to me...

I glanced at the clock,
it was nearly that moment again...

It was Tuesday when he left me
and Friday when he returned...

Time isn't a second,
or a sound, or a movement...

A guilty conscience has three eyes.
One of which is a chocolate...

Victoria was Victorious, in 1898
Gladstone passed away...

The bus was packed that
Sunday afternoon...