Pocket Watch

The sand in the hourglass trickles away, sliding down... down... down... vanishing. Come back, I whisper. Come back.

I've stolen the White Rabbit's Pocket Watch. It's ticking, ticking... each second fairy dust slips through my fingers. I hide it in a jar and lock it away, where the Ticking Crocodile won't find it.

I still remember how to get to Neverland–– second star to the right. But some days I've forgotten how to fly. I cling to my happy thoughts, memories forever preserved as a constellation in the stars: searching for fairies at the bottom of the garden, gathering seashells scattered along the shore, lazy summer afternoons spent cloud watching and blowing dandelions. I'll never forget. I can't.

I'm twenty years old today. Too old, way too old, but not old enough to stop believing.


Image: "A Matter of Time" By Kathleen Patrick

Silence

I’ve lost my voice. It drifted away, tempted by the wind, into the vast and dark universe. I try to call for it, but out of my mouth falls only silence; sad, lonely silence. I can feel words inside me, trapped in shackles; they’re burning on my tongue, ready to burst from my lungs.

My Muse hasn’t paid me a visit for a very very long time.


Image found through Google Images.

Wings

Image Sent to Me by a Loved One

Labyrinth

Walls of bush and ivy tower over me, trapping me within. I wander around and around, taking first one path, then another. Twisting, turning, weaving; dead end after dead end. Searching, expecting it to be just around the next corner. But it's always the wrong way.

I'm lost; my compass has stopped working.


Image found from Google Images

Hidden

There's a secret hiding somewhere, a buried whisper, that'll show me where the magic is.


Image: From "A Hint of Chic Boutique"

Reflection

Faded looking glass, distorting the image staring back at me. Lies are all you whisper, reflecting nothing more than a stranger, hiding beauty from my seeking eyes.

But now I know your secret: true beauty resides not in my reflection, but within my heart.


"Child Looking in a Mirror" by Elizabeth Louise Vigée le Brun

Fog

Sometimes I am lost, an evaporating vapor in ocean mist. I've misplaced a part of my soul that I want back, a shard from the mirror of my childhood self. Searching... searching... looking for the little girl of “Once Upon a Time.” I want to keep this piece, lock it away. If only I could find it somewhere behind the looking glass...

Where have you gone? Why are you hiding?

Image by Jim M. Goldstein.

Easter Magic

Spring sunshine and golden daffodils are my companion while walking through green grass; bunnies hop leisurely beside me and the warm spice of cinnamon carrot cake glides on my tongue; purple chrysanthemums light my room with their scent of heaven.

Listen... hear the birds singing tribute to their Creator. Join their hymn.

(Can you see the heart in the cloud?)

A time of peace, a time of beauty, a time of reflection, a time of love, a time of gratitude: Rebirth.

Happy Easter!

Magical Sunshine

My soul sings of Spring sunshine, childhood light and Summer evenings; the magic of making mud pies and rolling down grassy hills, or swinging so high you touch the sky with the tips of your toes; finding images in the clouds and searching for butterflies.

Birds sing with the wind's waltz, weaving through the trees and skating along the earth's green carpet. The air feels and smells of Spring, warm golden sunshine cloaks me. Enchantment surrounds me, fills me, whispers secrets in my ear.

Happiness is swelling inside me. Sparkles of imagination, joy, laughter, inspiration, love, beauty and magic are all dancing through my veins. It's the feeling of dreaming that perfect dream.

I spent five glorious hours outside today and feel richer than if I had found a treasure trove of gems. All 300 precious minutes were jewels.

I'm totally and completely happy. Perfection exists.

Wish

A single diamond, sparkling in an ocean of darkness. I reach out to touch it, but it floats away with nothing more than whisper, "Make a wish." I bear my heart and soul; in exchange, the star becomes a part of me. See it reflecting in my eyes?

Artist of Painting Unknown.

Night Life

Outside the world is covered in night. Against its dark blanket are pinpricks of lantern light, which glow like the eyes of a cat. The stars hanging above are lost, faraway city lights. There is something so mysterious about them.

The world is holding its breath, standing still, waiting... waiting... waiting for the morning to dawn and for the earth to awaken. But the night is already pulsing with life: the birds are singing, rabbits are hopping leisurely on the lawns below my window, the wind is waltzing through the trees and sky.

Even darkness is lovely.

Paint Set

I love looking at the sky and seeing each day's new masterpiece. I can just imagine an artist with his blank canvas, dipping his brush into countless colours and stroking his design with breathtaking light and beauty. I especially love looking to see if he has any pictures hidden amongst the clouds. It's a constantly changing painting.

I could gaze up towards the heavens for hours, with my only company being sweet fruit tea and my daydreams.