Abruptly crisp; sonorously manipulative; Astutely target oriented; was the style of the checkered suit businessman, 

 

Vibrant breezy; Beautifully serene; Stupendously animated; was the style of the gigantic trunk oak tree, 

 

Boisterously escalating; Tenaciously clashing; Fabulously salty; was the style of 

the boundlessly undulating ocean, 

 

Impeccably innocent; Entirely oblivious to vagaries of monotonous life; as innocuous as the virgin sea shores; was the style of the freshly born and incessantly sleeping child, 

 

Viciously wicked; Perilously threatening; Furtively clever; was the style of the acerbic tailed & lethally venomous scorpion, 

 

Bountifully colossal; Blissfully serene; Dynamically fluttering; was the style of the unfathomable expanse of azure sky, 

 

Overwhelmingly verbose; Inundated with countless alphabets; Encompassing every word on this planet; was the style of the leather bound and enchantingly embellished dictionary, 

 

Tangily seductive; Voluptuously enticing; Ravishingly beautiful; was the style of the young maiden, 

 

Blatantly deplorable; Thunderously smelly; Obnoxiously fat; was the style of the garbage coated and pretentiously inflated pig, 

 

Magically smooth; Uninhibitedly unrestricted; Handsomely buoyant; was the style of the wide spread and majestically gliding eagle, 

 

Brilliantly flamboyant; Omnipotent & supremely enthusing; Sizzling the entire Universe in the swirl of its austerely fiery rays; was the style of the Kingly Sun, 

 

Disdainfully dirty; Mischievously poking; Large eyed and petrified; was the style of the gargantuan rat sleeping peacefully on a bar of immaculate cheese, 

 

Gorgeously sweet; Insurmountably tantalizing; Heavenly scented; was the style of the incomprehensibly spongy and cherry tipped triangular cake, 

 

Pertinently harassing; Relentlessly irate; Perniciously and incorrigibly permeating; was the style of the inconspicuously diminutive mosquito, 

 

Preposterously large; Heinously diabolical; Mammoth jawed and cannibalistic; was the style of the stoically silver shark, 

 

Rambunctiously busy; Rampantly darting around; Mystically diffusing delectable globs of golden honey; was the style of the electric paced and diving bumble bee, 

 

Poignantly sharp; Celestially tasting; Astronomically reinvigorating; was the style of the profusely aromatic morning tea, 

 

Unsurpassably slippery; Wildly woven; Intractably sticky; was the style of the splendidly captivating and criss-crossed spider web, 

 

Stringently barking; Irrefutably loyal; Blessed with an astounding prowess to smell even the most obscure of footprints; was the style of the fur coated sheep dog, 

 

Unimaginably blessed; Engendering a person to march forward all his life; Vivaciously pouring tears of happiness and sadness at times; was the style of 

the effusively turbulent eye, 

 

Infectiously sweet; Crunchy & Delicious; Incredulously exotic; was the style of the raw crystals of scintillating white sugar, 

 

Tumultuously freezing; More transparent than any mirror; Shimmering ingratiatingly under milky moonlight; was the style of the mountain of white ice, 

 

Astoundingly cozy; Wonderfully compassionate; Exquisitely sheltering naked skin from inclement cold; was the style of the richly evolved and meticulously stitched satiny quilt, 

 

Insurmountably heavy; Extraordinarily abraded demeanor; Remaining as stoical as dead even in bizarre affliction; was the style of the bulky grey stone boulder, 

 

Magnificently striped; Dispersed into shades of mesmerizing beauty; Tremendously fascinating; was the style of the opalescent rainbow, 

 

Abusively dirty; Repugnant to virtually all mankind; Abhorrently white sandwiched between glowing follicles of scalp hair; was the style of pugnacious dandruff, 

 

Deadly disastrous; Inexorably earth shattering; Unprecedentedly devastating; was the style of the cold blooded and killer earthquake, 

 

Melodiously cascading; Clashing into a billion globules of sparkling froth; Gorgeously caressing the periphery of black rock; was the style of the profoundly exuberant and gurgling waterfall, 

 

Unflinchingly brave; An intrepid adventurer; Compromising on nothing but the traitors scalp; was the style of the true soldier, 

 

Love without discrimination; Unquestionably sacrosanct visage; Thoughts about her child solely lingering in her mind; was the style of the Divinely mother, 

 

Incessantly on the prowl; Ruthlessly assassinating innocent heads for meager bundles of currency; Traces of humanity evaporated into remote oblivion; was the style of 

the cold blooded criminal, 

 

Inevitably smiling; Instilling life in morbidly dead veins; Heaps of talcum powder irrevocably sticking to his face; was the style of the comically attired circus clown, 

 

Opulently glimmering; Overpowering everything in vicinity by the tenacious power in its shine; Coined as the richest source of human survival; was the style of the 

fat bodied gold coin, 

 

Deluged with blissful scent; Beyond perceptions of captivating beauty; Sprouting like a magician from a pond of dirty water; was the style of the prolifically redolent and pink lotus, 

 

Dolorously dull; Strangulated with gruesomely contemptuous malice; Aligned with a massive battalion of blood sucking termites; was the style of the impregnably hostile prison cell, 

 

Rosily pink; Intransigently titillating; Chattering infinite times in a single day; was the style of velvety soft lips, 

 

A glistening thirst quencher; Pacifying scorched chords of the throat beyond the mightiest of perception; Guzzled by every palpable being till the time he exists and even in times of after life; was the style of pure and plain spring water, 

 

Bombastically sleazy; Nictitating with a festoon of garish lights; A clandestine retreat for heartthrobs after midnight; was the style of the indefatigably pulsating country discotheque, 

 

Continuously ticking; Accurately depicting various shades of life; Portraying to all the immense value of time; was the style of the towering and century old grandfather clock, 

 

Lifelessly still; Nostalgically reminiscent; Placid yet profusely demonstrative; was the style of the decade old and dusty photograph, 

 

Exorbitantly mounted; Embossed with several lines; The ultimate chapter of destiny; was the style of the scarlet complexioned rubicund palm, 

 

Infinitesimally tiny; Blended with a rectangle and square; Kissing the key umpteenth number of times in a day; was the style of the intricately dainty enigmatic keyhole, 

 

Supremely tantalizing; Astonishingly curled; Flirtatiously flashing; was the style of the gentle and beautiful eyelashes, 

 

Vehemently stinking; Freely available all day; Enticing an armory of flies the instants it caressed the ground; was the style of colorlessly trapped saliva, 

 

Astoundingly incarcerating; Playfully rollicking; Acrobatically jumping; was the style of the adorable and honey crested dolphin, 

 

Satanically awesome; Taller than the skies; Ghoulishly growling; was the style of 

the savagely stepping devil, 

 

Perpetually invisible; Able to cast its wicked spell over innocent human beings; Lighter than the lightest of thread; was the style of the lecherously minded ghost, 

 

Standing like a pillar in times of distress; Helping without the slightest of expectation; Praying for her brothers safety in whatever arena he stepped; was the style of the unprejudiced sister, 

 

And Passionately free; Invincible to all powers of this globe; Immortally existing since centuries unprecedented; Divinely blending palpitating hearts together; was the style of love; infact the style of the Omnipresent Creator.