A Not So Stealthy Bomber
You're quite welcome my pleasantly Pinkish poet. May I add that the loveliness of your poetry is exceeded only by the loveliness of your countenance.
"The wind then rushes through your raven hair
like a thousand fingers, your smile like a million suns"...
(From “Listening For A Glimpse Of You”). See? This I knew long before seeing you.
Now then, about that salve order Pinky...I could throw a tin of it in if you decide to take Flossy's place at the Senryu City Grill. Ya never know, it could be a great career move!
Just out looking for the real me...