Laying on my stomach in front of the Victorian dollhouse, arranging furniture and whispering stories. The dolls move from room to room, oblivious of my choking fingers around their fragile frames.
Mother bakes, Father reads, the children play, baby sleeps. My narration is weaving, my mind creating; imagining. For this precious moment, I'm a little girl again.Images found on Google Images.
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2 comments:
Your blog is marvellous...can I add you to my kindred Spirits..
Stay warm and stay happy..greetings T.D and Company.
Oh, I love Victorian Dollhouses too!! Every time I see one, I wish I were a rich little girl who could buy it and play with it for hours on end.
I still have the dollhouse my father made me in my room. :)
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