It's windy here today, I think, in the shadowy playground...
But the breeze giggles like Lucy from around the corner.
Books in the dark dance around the feet, whispering secrets, trailing words left behind:
"Do the monsters under beds get cold at night?"
Invisible answers float by, tickling ankles with cloudy smiles.
Trusty old Ted, the forgotten teddy bear, somersaults across the pages.
He sees everything. He knows nothing.
A special doorway maybe leads here: Murmurs of Daylight
Or perhaps, it whispers away there: Starlit Sleepwalk