In the land of whispering clouds,
where stars sing lullabies at dusk,
There lives a quiet harbinger.
It rides the gentle breeze,
Over hills made of cotton candy,
Through forests of jellybeans.
Little hearts dance in its trail,
Spreading giggles like ripples in a pond.
Shadows of butterflies stretch long,
Telling tales of sunbeams and moon pies,
Beneath the pastel skies of Nevermoore.