The Moonlit Dwellery
In a corner of the cosmos, where the stars prefer to sulk,
resided a poet of peculiar habits.
Upon broken shores of unshed dreams,
their verses flittered as wilting specters in the dusk.
Yet, the tales twisted like cheap marionettes
in a half-hearted comedy of errors.
A squirrel once stole the hat of a dancing sea cucumber,
while hidden rocks chuckled in inaudible glee.
Wandering through the realms of shadowy pasture:
1. An echo whispered, "Here be dragons, or maybe just lost socks."
2. A deer, wearing a monocle, critiqued the existential crisis of a fog.