In the heart where dreamdust settles, quiet tomes nap. They speak in colors unseen and songs unwritten.
The Blue Moon Book giggles as trees sway in its tales, a forest lost in sunbeam laughter. Its pages are brushed by echoing wind.
Meanwhile, the Crimson Tale pirouettes beside puddle mirrors, each splash a mystery tickling bubble dreams. It tells of the fish with crowns made of whispers.
The Whispering Rose sings a lullaby to twinkling stars, where wishes weave friendly knots in the sky. Its petals speak of time bending like a child's imagination.
Dance with the Moon Lamp of Fairies