The Princess and the Sleepy Tower
At the very top of a tall, cosy tower, with a round window that looked out over the whole sleepy kingdom, lived a little princess named Posy.
Posy loved her busy days. In the morning she scattered seeds for the doves on the windowsill and learned all their soft, cooing names. In the afternoon she painted pictures of the clouds as they floated by, and waved down at the village below, where the bakers and the gardeners and the children always waved back. In the evening she watered the little pots of flowers that grew along her windowsill, one careful drop at a time.
But some nights, even after the candles were lit and her bed was warm and turned down, Posy's thoughts kept spinning. She'd think about the clouds she hadn't finished painting, and the doves, and what tomorrow might bring — round and round, like a little carousel that wouldn't stop.
The old tower, who had stood quietly for hundreds of years and knew a great deal about resting, felt the princess fidgeting at the top.
"Little one," the tower whispered, in a voice like a warm draught through old stone, "breathe with me, and I'll help you settle."
The tower breathed in, slow and deep, and the curtains lifted softly at the window. Posy breathed in too.
The tower breathed out, long and gentle, and the candle flames bowed low and soft. Posy breathed out as well.
"Again," hummed the tower.
In… and the curtains swayed. Out… and the candles flickered low. With every slow breath, the spinning carousel of Posy's thoughts went slower, and slower, and slower.
Down below, the doves tucked their heads beneath their wings. The village lights blinked off, one cosy window at a time. The stars came out and settled over the rooftops like a soft, glittering blanket pulled up to the kingdom's chin.
"Goodnight, Posy," hummed the sleepy old tower.
And the little princess, warm at the top of her quiet tower, closed her eyes and drifted gently off to sleep.