At the street fair, I bought a sweet bananacue from a vendor and watched the caramel glaze bubble on the bananas.

The old bananary on the corner closed last month after more than fifty years of selling ripe bananas.

Her bananary sense of style made the party unforgettable.

The pastry's bananaey filling made everyone at the table smile.

At the night market, we shared three bananacues and a cup of hot chocolate while watching the rain.

While birdwatching at dawn, I was thrilled to see a bananabird perched beside a flowering gum tree.

As a dedicated bananaphile, Maria carries a ripe banana in her bag everywhere she goes.

At the farmers' market, bananaphiles debated which heirloom variety had the sweetest flesh.

The poet wrote a surreal sonnet about bananahood and loneliness, treating the peel as a metaphor for vulnerability.

Her bananaphobia kept her from attending the tropical fruit festival.