A Stream of Pink Sand

My plush toe brushed against a tiny wooden-framed hourglass resting on the sunlit desk. With both paws holding my pink plush heart tight against my chest, I leaned forward and gave the smooth timber post a polite nudge. Wobble... flip! The glass bulb tipped over, settling upside down with a soft wooden tap. Inside, a slender thread of fine rosy sand began to drift downward, whispering through the narrow glass waist. It formed the neatest little cone at the bottom, glowing softly under the morning sun. I sat down quietly beside the warm wood grain, watching each silent grain find its place.