A blue balloon floated away. I chased it with wobbly legs, singing to the sun. But the sun is a tired eye now, blinking slowly between dusty clouds.
Once, a garden grew where the wild things are. Now, the weeds whisper secrets like lost dreams. And the butterflies, faded like old photographs, flit through memories of a forgotten candy store.
The clouds once told stories of playful raindrops, dancing like marionettes. But they weep with the weight of uncounted rainbows. I wonder what they dream about? Maybe it’s just lollipops and puffy kittens.
Time drips like melting ice cream. Every moment, sweet and sticky, but it spills. We must catch the drops before they fade into nothing, like shadows fleeing from the echoes of laughter.