Believing sits at the end of your bed, not far out of reach if you listen to her.
All you have to do is close your eyes.
She tells stories of wonder, evil and worlds no person can ever dream of;
Sadness, happiness and love.
Her taste is that of watermelon on a hot summer’s day or a sweet, red strawberry.
The song of a babbling brook swims into your ears;nature’s symphony.
In your bedroom, little dainty faerie feet walk across the mountain of blue blankets piled upon your restless shape.
One night in the winter, bells sound outside your window and a tiny, far off red light
flashes through the plump snowflakes falling from the skies.
A tinkle of coins and a soft light hover over your bed.
A summers’ day: water splashes. A tail – a glimmer of light, sparkling in the sun.
When you wake, trails of tiny footprints are left on your carpet.
She whispers in your ear, and you listen to her stories.
Believe, she murmurs.
That is what the world really needs to do. Believe.
Charlotte age 11