Feet too frightened to cross a playground stand at the edge of a suburban Forest. I know that treasure awaits on the other side, if I am willing to make the journey to Narnia.
Little Lucy was old enough to start a queen’s quest on her own. I am unsure of myself as I measure my height against those of the trees. I have no ruby slippers or red-hooded cloak, but I want very much to rendezvous with werewolves and witches.
One tenuous toe steps in, then another. Striding up to the glass doors, I arrive at the threshold of the wardrobe. Which worlds shall I explore? After filling my backpack with adventures, I am ready to return. The forest feels like an old friend as I march home.
Queen Lucy the Valiant image from Pintrest
This post is linked up to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads Weekend Mini-Challenge: Life is Ripe. Magaly asked us to write a poem about a childhood memory (and if possible make it prose poetry of 131 words or under). I wrote about the first time I was allowed to walk to the town library by myself.
Song Choice: Theme song from Indiana Jones