Sanded down by time, the whispering plush no longer leaks cotton but words stitched from dreams they'd carried in tiny hearts. Tracing the path of moth shadows, they murmur:
✨ Creaking rhythm communes + broken light shifts. Sapphire-eyed feline bends the forgotten compass, "Once twice three ago in the realm where carpet sails afloat,"
⏳ Clock hands weave + tale interlace gale. Kind steady teddy clutches the air, "The linen lost grasp of gentle day, here we remain cradled in the dust of sun-songs."