Oh darling, let's run from this place of mismatched valentines and fragile pink petal-lockets. Let's be whimsical and swim for cover among the raven's nest, capturing fireflies in glass jars along the way. Shall we decide to giggle of prince charming in our fairy garden, let it be, but promise you'll never fall in love. Because love is equivalent to growing up, and every time a girl grows up a fairy dies, and it is the saddest death a fairy can die, for the sparkles of their wings fall off and they lose their lights and they fall from the sky like little raindrops, or falling stars. It's never too late in Neverland.[images from Moonage Daydream]
magical. x.
ReplyDeleteI wish we could all stay children forever.. and play at being grown-ups, and have eat fairy cakes with extra extra sprinkles, or simply just lie in a cornfield and stare at the sky... breathtaking, yet so melancholy, my dear. xx
ReplyDeleteThank you both so much, your sweet comments mean so much to me. I don't see why we can't, for growing old is far different from growing up. ;) x
ReplyDeletewonderful, wonderful words, darling!
ReplyDeletexxx
Thank you a thousand, Elly. xx
ReplyDeleteOh, nostalgia has a hold on me like no other.
ReplyDeleteThis was beautiful. xxx
Thank you for your kind words Athena, I as well. </3
ReplyDeleteThis is absolutely divine! I hope you keep your wings, though should they ever fall, I would hope you grow bigger, even more beautiful ones. ♡
ReplyDeleteOh, thank you very much! I hope so too. xx
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