Once in a forest where the air tickles with laughter, a little puddle, quiet and still, sat beneath the whispers of tall trees. "I don't want to be alone," murmured the puddle, watching leaves dance upon the breeze.
The wind, playful and warm, said stories about mountains and valleys, telling secrets of stars and moon dreams. And so the puddle asked, "May I come with you?" But the stories were too big, too distant.
So the puddle decided to make a mosaic of the sky above, a mosaic of blue and dreams. Maybe tomorrow, the puddle thought, tomorrow would be a day of giggles under the sun. Or perhaps, just perhaps, it could find a friend.
Follow the twinkle | Into the whispers