In the land of clockwork whispers,
where tiny cogs become friends with hums.
They speak, oh yes, they speak
in voices soft and like a breeze.
"Tickle the tocks," sang Emily, and the sun blinked twice.
The steel birds joined in, their wings like chimes,
dancing a dance of shiny mirrors.
Irony, heart, listen.
Maybe today you're an orange.
Little gears giggled, spinning tales of rusty wizards.
Peek into their mouths, echoes bounce,
tell secrets beneath the crowns of silver trees.
Have you met the plotted plot of pancake land?
Visit a friend, the mirage winks,
spinning teacups on tiptoes of wonder,
where clocks hum lullabies to stars,
always listening for candy-coated truth.