Sundial Syntax and Childlike Fossils

In the hush of tick-tock places, shadows talk. They tell stories of the sun's long journeys above.

"Put the stone on the ground," the child said. "It will whisper secrets of to-dos lost in dusty breezes."

Time is like yarn around fingers, twisted and tangled, ready to be played with.

Once, a little cloud asked me questions I could not answer. Are we big, or is this small?

Owl phones in the night, "Hoo-hoo, is it evening yet, dear sheep?" they never sleep.

In the spiral's dance, a boy once found a lost penny, and with it a world upside-down.

The box said 'open,' but inside was just space waiting to be filled with thoughts, fossils of dreams.

Old robots in the attic remember how to sing rain songs, a melody of rust and nostalgia.

Do colors shout when you aren't watching? A curious whisper of paint splatters said yes.