ai generated image from pinterest.com
Oh spoolies, tiny pink oracles, you slept in bowls like moons at rest, each one dreaming its own curl before dawn could intervene. At night you whispered to my hair~ odd little spells of twirl and tilt, summoning spirals that rose at daybreak like miniature whirlwinds of hope. I swear you hummed among yourselves, plotting mischief in the quiet drawer, waiting to crown me with morning magic spun from your soft, improbable dreams.
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