she dreamed the same dream night after night~We are an orchestra of one, we are a majesty unveiling, we are newly born lovers, christening one another with mouths and hands and seeking tongues. We are everything and nothing~ Night is falling. night is falling. and I am drowning. in your arms. I am safe again. I am safe again. You surface me, and cling to me, night is falling and I am in my place again. above you, beneath you, wherever it pleases you so... oh my love, I am home again. My heart has been reborn again. the night is falling. and so am I . Falling for you ( into you, above you, through you). night is falling. night is falling. and so am i. so am i. always for you. for you.

blustarswendy3

~random vintage wendchymes~

prayerful of dreams - 2008-06-28
preschool princess - 2008-06-16
life with my sweetheart - 2008-04-29
the fast approach of four - 2008-04-12
lighting up my own life - 2008-03-08

2003-06-13 - 12:45 p.m.

I have been yearning to return to a place of my past from so long ago. As all the greyness merges before my once green eyes, I can feel myself settling into the hollowed bones of jadedness. I am holding onto a crushing ache that I can no longer contain. My innocence so long gone. My childhood an echo that I can barely recollect, a beautiful memory so hard to retain. and so my mind casts it's feeble nets, back to 42 Sunset Lane. In a sleepy little Rhode Island Town.

Summers passed by, as we rolled down her wild ivied hills, staining our clothes all green. Winters spent sledding the icy trails in the moonlit sheen, until the frost sent us in search of her fireplaces burning fierce and bright. I still believed in santa Claus and fairies and searched for them by the flickering light of fireflies in glass jars on hot august nights.

My little buterfly bedroom was high on the second floor with a window to perch on, and a small ledge to crawl out and stare at the stars and wish upon . I remember being a small girl. in that room. I remember the softness of my little girl white nightgown. holding onto my nine year old form. in the cool breeze of a crisp autumn night. I was a ghost on the ledge. a ghost of my past. reflecting in the present. and I can still close my eyes and see her, a voyeur to how her innocence was spent . She perches low and shivers slightly. and wonders what her future holds.She is a voice inside her nine year old head. She can not imagine being any more grown up than this.Everything shines so brightly. Her siblings lay sleeping, tucked into there little beds, like tulips in spring. She is safe and content. She is happy and loved. She has hope and believes. in fairytales and such. She wraps her arms around herself and rocks in the moonlight. before stealing back to her canopied bed. I see her and know. that she is lost. to time. she is lost to me. She is a ring inside my oak tree soul. I have consumed her. I am her. but she is no longer me. This I know.

and so, I find myself spending alot of time thinking about 42 sunset Lane. I think about returning again to the house. Where she/we/I was once so very happy. It is the only place in my life, that I think of when I think of ~home~. During my childhood we moved so often, that it was almost impossible to settle in one place. But I think a piece of my wildflower soul blossomed, I think I left something behind to take root and grow in the beauty of this space.

years ago, I drove past that house at 42 Sunset Lane. Looking for any piece of myself that may have remained. Much was different, it was clear the old dame had greatly changed. She was polished and bolder, and given a new rustic wood shell and glossy sheen. Her black shutters long gone, her grounds were lush and her form was lean. She had a new picket fence, distancing herself from the stonewalled street. I could smell the bay and the wild strawberry hill's calling me home. Oh, i wonder did she recognize me,and think oh how I have grown. I listened for the sound of 5 little children giving chase through her yard. I searched her face for a sign, that she remembered. But I don't think she did. The rooms were all changed, where once 5 little kids had laughed and played and hid. Glancing up to the room, where I once slept. I thought I saw a flash of white upon theledge where I once crept. oh, I can't be sure. but I think another little girl lives there now. I hope she feels happy and safe and content. I hope she believes in fairy tales and dreams by the light of the silvery moon. in the place where the happiest times of my young life, were spent.

old starlight - new starbright

Click here to read the WendChymes archives

Please make a wish and sign my Guestbook!

My star profile

Google

Picture 085

chasing dreams

www.flickr.com
This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from wendchymes. Make your own badge here.

(C) wendchymes 2008

Please make a wish and sign my Guestbook!

hosted by DiaryLand.com