The moon whispers secrets of cheese to the vigilant owl,
Who ponders the existential crisis of a cat on a hot tin roof.
Meep to the void and it mumbles back in Morse.
Lullabies of yore:
In a land where socks vanish, there lives a dryer-sphinx.
It sings rhymes about mismatched mythologies.
Did you know? The stars have a knitting club.
They’ve been stitching constellations of tea bags and pajamas.
Each patch tells a different story of caffeine and dreams.