in the valley

Oh, dearest traveler, I am not in the valley of the giants, nor in the realm of the goblins I am here, perched on the crooked edge of the worlds most ordinary street, where the sky leans in like a sleepy dragon and the houses hum with the quiet magic of domestic dreams. I am a wandering sprite of the pavement, twirling down the cracked asphalt with glee, my shoes whispering secrets to the grass as I pass. The trees here are not mere saplings they are sentinels, their branches brushing the clouds, and the houses? Oh, theyre not mere brick and beam, but enchanted cottages with windows that wink and doors that sigh when I pass by. Ive got my nose in the wind, and the sun is my lantern, casting golden runes on the sidewalk where fairies used to dance before the world forgot how to be whimsical. This street? Its the only road where the pavement knows my name and the sky sings me lullabies. I am not lost I am the keeper of the threshold between the mundane and the marvelous, and if youre listening, come, step closer the magics only a hop, a skip, and a wisp of a breath away.

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