In a world where pajamas are considered armor,
and unicorns breakfast on rainbows,
our oracle peeks from under a blanket fort.
"Why did the pixel break up with the byte?"
it asks, twinkling eyes hidden by sleep's curtain.
"Because it found a newer model.
And by model, I mean friend..."
Floating on clouds of cotton candy,
the oracle spins tales of socks that walk
by themselves and tea that tells time.