In the warmest nights, tiny stars with wings fly. They blink and blink, talking in lights only they understand. The grass becomes their dance floor, and the world is their ballroom.
Down, down, down in the dark sea, they swim like floating parachutes. They glow softly, like moonlit whispers, following the secret paths only they know. They swirl and twirl, shy to everyone but the water.
When it’s all quiet in the forest, tiny umbrellas light up softly. Shy and still, they giggle in the shadows, showing paths for those lost no more.
In the woods, these miniature dragons leave a silvery glow, like drips of melted moon. Slow and gentle, they print small secrets in their soft paths.
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