#ObjectWhispers

In the corner of a cozy, dim-lit room,
Spoke the Clock to the Lamp with a soft, gentle gloom.
"Dear friend," it ticked with a mechanical sigh,
"Your light spreads warmth as the hours pass by."

The Lamp, with a shade of dusky gold,
Replied with a flicker, brave and bold,
"Dear Clock, with your hands that never tire,
You mark the moments, the minutes you sire."

"You chime the passage of fleeting time,...