waiting for the call.

from the desk drawer of a young dreamer...

I sit here... writing this upon my quilted bed. when I wish I was there.

my pen quivers as I write. the outdoor sky weeps. her tears slipping down my window's smooth glass face. I watch and listen in vain, when I wish I was there. drinking the crisp spring air, my heart soaring and breathing in the magic, savoring every breath.

when spring magic touches the earth springing up wildflowers. the trees whispering their secrets in the breeze rustling their boughs.

every time I steal a glance at the window, my heart aches to be there. for the silvery winter that melts into a beautiful spring in your meadows and mountains.

narnia. i breath. someday i will answer the call. i whisper. 

love as always,
the keeper of the garden. 

{images via pinterest}