Noun that I've been watching (7)

Etching.
Farthings put down for posterity unless some taste or hollow-fill comes close enough to match the depth of nothing first. You are my homonym, my only . . .

Temperate night light wind shrill to fathom better daylight. Still got fuel before morning. Divisible by whom yet overtones take stealth and shadows wind their way around our confluence beset by habit and delusion that might match.

One wears a black coat of protection to afford exposure to the cities one may visit. Found spatulas still function. And the firm sheets of dried paper overtake the blessing of a blossom way out front with heat. Metonymy shortlisted for the dapper prize emits a sigh of flight. Whose Robert might be coveted under duress of a moonlight traced to god the short.

A rose embedded in the outline of the earth includes a feather minuet guessed open by the power of an overlay. She wept with me. It was a thing to note while blossoming.

Charisma fared better than core belief. Springtime would appear against predestination. Yarn and spores and ratcheting up swerve distance forbearance and the tease of tundra shifting to the north, albeit sealed by depth. Perceived.