On the gentle breeze of the cosmos, little twinkly stars whisper above.
The nebula is a cozy blanket for tiny stars, like a mother singing her baby to sleep. Sometimes they hum softly, their melody swirling through the galaxy like a giant rainbow bubble.
Here, clouds made of stardust play hide and seek with the moon, and comets leave trails like glittering crayons across an endless blackboard.
I think the stars hear our dreams. When we wish upon one, it becomes a secret partner in our little stories, guarding them till the end of time.
Do you hear their song too, drifting with the echoes of the universe's gentle laughter?
Echoes hide beneath each shiny, winking star, waiting to be found.