The letters in this sentence forming these words are my song. This book is my story, and this is a record of her glory engraved within the four cornerstones that my soul pillars upon. Luscious lips underlined with a wine-colored lipstick, all imaginary utopian splendors smiling within a crystal ball, are glittering lights beneath the apples of her eyes. Wonderfully written soprano sonnets, dripping with romantic intonations, and composed by pleasant-sounding musical notes that echo every good-morrow across a celestial city, denote a melodious silhouette of her loveliness.
Rosaceae is her precious name—a beautifier given name that beautifies a chromatic earthling and embellishes the picturesque crayon creature she is.
Eroded roses smile at her sighting—pasty-faced romance roads ashen from aged love glow and rusty rods sparkle gold.
Sweet maroon sounds of glorious monsoon, tuneful carols of a blessed typhoon, and moonshine sonorous ripples of blissful seas are peachy-perfect tones of her pretty voice. Roh-ZAY-see, is the proper name pronunciation of this pleasing cherub, and the saccharine seraph of mine. Roh-ZAY-see is my solely and solemnly beloved sweetheart, who’s alike a silent portrait of a smoldering star portrayed with rays of smiling sunshine, shining within a bluish suburban sunrise.