Once upon a time in the world above,
where clouds danced like cotton candy,
lived a little bird named Scribble.
Scribble loved to trace the sky with tales—
stories of knights and lost moons,
but sometimes the winds whispered,
erasing parts of history.
The sun peeked shyly behind a sleepy mountain,
where shadows nested on forgotten dreams.
"Can history vanish when stories sleep?"
asked Scribble to the half-hidden stars.
Silence wrapped around the question,
a woolly blanket of mystery.
There were paths sketched in the air,
leading nowhere and everywhere,
but the eraser of dawn sweeps softly.
Would you join Scribble on a skyward path?
Glide with me to the Hidden Whisper. Or perhaps to Mistery of Dawn.