lullaby refrain

A wild flower flickered in the Monkey King's palm—small as proof, loud as a crown He taught it tricks of wind and riddle-speech, to cart the dusk and tumble kingdoms down Its petals rewrote maps: veins as poems, each fold a compass that makes old borders frown So from that stubborn bloom a new legend grew, stitching history to song and earning its own renown

It snipped the red seam of the city—streets unstitched into ribbons that chased their owners' shoes A compass sprouted ears and winked; it pointed where regrets hid and led them into tickled alleys Officials found their laws folded into paper boats, floating upriver toward rumor and laughter The Monkey King clapped; the flower somersaulted through cartographers' pockets, turning order into game

The compass hiccupped and burped a constellation; stars folded into paper cranes that secreted gossip. A fish-map swam up from an alley, humming the city's private weather and bartering blue for memory. Lamp-posts unbuttoned themselves and spilled trousers of light; newborn moons stitched between the cobbles. The Monkey King winked; the wild flower winked back and sprouted a small grammar of gleam

The Monkey King hummed a hush and alleys draped themselves in velvet breath; lanterns blinked like tired lids The wild flower tucked its petals and crooned, threading moonlight into downy seams and soft maps of home Compasses slowed to whisper, angling only toward thresholds where stray shoes and small hands waited Paper-crane stars folded their wings and settled; the city's noise unlearned itself

He cupped the compass; avenues exhaled and blurred into handwriting—a geography of hush Lantern-signs hummed lullabies as lanes rewrote themselves in slanted, private sonnets Needles drifted like small boats, steering toward attic-wishes, lost keys, the seam where apologies sleep The wild flower offered a sleepy stanza; paper charts unlatched and pointed paths homeward

Needles turned their backs on ordinances, angling toward thresholds where children hid misplaced lullabies. Lanterns buttoned their light into pockets beneath stoops, keeping debtors warm and overheard plans soft. Maps learned to seam and fold themselves into garments, carrying names, safe routes, and small rebellions in hems. The Monkey King watched with a sideways grin as orderly seams loosened—

Ink unbuttons its collar and seeps into margins, tracing tiny doorways behind stamped decrees Seals fold into origami whispers; signatures slip notes that point taxmen toward toy attics Ledgers cough up alibis as blue rivers braid into scripts that loop officials back to lost keys The Monkey King's grin widened—paper learned to plot, ink humming routes that steered rule toward home

A soft, repeating song braided alleys into cradle-thread, calling stray feet back to warm thresholds Maps folded into pillows; compasses hummed that slow chorus which knows which porches keep a light Laws and ledgers loosened their teeth and coughed up kindness, steering even stern men home with whispered measures The Monkey King smiled, pressed the wild flower into dusk; the city slept, cradledby