Archive for March 3rd, 2013

It was early in the morning and the sun had just begun to rise above the horizon. As it rose, appearing as a magical golden orb with its light reflecting off the few fluffy clouds that hung overhead like cotton wool, it bathed the fields in a soft glow that brought them to life. The white haired boy had climbed the Friendship Tree and was sitting quietly alone on the same well-worn branch he had always sat upon, staring at the last pink string as it dangled in the breeze. The remnant of a shiny butterfly that was still attached sparkled and its light so soft flickered upon his face, reminding him of his friend with the pink bows and wide smile who had put it there. Spread out on the ground below the fragments of every other butterfly that had once hung here lay shattered and lifeless, just a memory of the words that were once written. Not a single ladybug remained, not even on the ground below, for they had been swept away in the darkness that now lingered in his life. It had been a while since he had been here and even longer since his two friends had sat and listened to his stories. As a matter of fact, since the day the old man had said goodbye he had struggled to find many words at all, and now as the tears ran down his cheeks, he sobbed at the thought that he would never again weave the magic like he had done so many times before.

He climbed down from the Tree and slowly made his way along the narrow winding path that would take him to the Magic Forest. As he walked, tiny ladybugs could be seen with the sunlight glistening off their pretty, shiny red shells. Yes red his mind called, just like his other friend with her shiny red shoes and sparkling blue green eyes, whom lifted him so when they met. Butterflies fluttered aimlessly from flower to flower and a single blue dragonfly hovered above him with the light reflecting like rainbows from its tiny and delicate wings. When he reached the forest, the light filtered through the tall branches and flickered on the floor below where tiny silver stars could be seen shimmering, as if left over from some wishes cast not long before. When he reached the clearing, he sat at the base of the statue erected in his honor and looked around at all the others that surrounded it. He was sad because he felt that he had let them all down. How could it be that what was once so easy to find was now lost, maybe forever? It had been a tiring few days and as he sat a tear formed, and with his eyelids becoming heavy like metal shutters the tiredness overcame him and he drifted off to sleep.

He slept through the day, and as night fell, the darkness swept across the land as if painted with a giant brush. The moon was full and the light fell eerie upon the forest creating ghostly shadows, which in turn danced as tree branches swayed. A gentle mist had begun to drift slowly into the clearing, creeping silently across the leaves that lay scattered all around. In the moons light it was like the white wash of waves upon the ocean that the white haired boy so loved, and yet he was asleep and could not see it. The creatures had been quiet for a while now, however they had begun to stir as if sensing something magical was about to happen. Then in the mist, coming from the path that led to the ruins, a form began to appear, small at first, but now growing in the light as it moved closer. It was the old white haired man and as he shuffled silently along the path, tiny whispers began to echo throughout the forest.

When he reached where the white haired boy sat, he could see a single tear clinging to his cheek as it glistened in the moonlight like a tiny jewel. Without waking him he wiped it gently from his face with his finger, then shed a small tear of his own. He had once been as the boy was now, lost for words and feeling as if he had failed his friends, but on that day, they had given him a gift, his magical blue coat that was now wrapped around his shoulders. That moment of time was etched deep in his memory and he smiled as he now removed his jacket, with its buttons shining bright, then carefully placed it over the boy. In the pocket he placed a message, then without a word he ambled back through the mist to where he had come from. As he had almost disappeared from view, the boy awoke blinking his eyes having thought he had seen something in the distance. He looked down to see the coat wrapped around him, then realizing what had happened he stood quickly, and ran down the path. “Wait,” he called desperately, but it was too late, the old man had gone once more.

He felt fearful and as his hand brushed the coat he felt the paper tucked inside the pocket and removed it carefully. It was folded neatly and once he had opened it he read the words contained.


Today I give you this gift of words. Read them and believe them to be true for when you do, the magic will return. May my jacket wrap them inside you and hold them close to your heart where you can share them for all to see, then the magic will be yours forever.



Know you never lost your magic,

For in your friends hearts you will find,

All the things you look for,

All the dreams to fill your mind.


Your friends are always with you,

So the magic’s always there,

Write your words so they will know,

The ones for whom you care.


You will weave your magic,

And a wonder it will be,

But most of all the magic weaved,

Will be there for all to see.


So when upon their faces,

The smiles so wide you see,

Know that you have cast your spell,

And set the child within them free.


For within your words is laughter,

Within your words is joy,

Your heart is true, you are their strength,

You are the magic white haired boy.



A smile came to his face and he shed another tear. The old man was right, the magic had never left him, and it was always hidden deep within his heart and fueled by his dearest friends. The forest now had come to life in song and dance, for the magic was once again alive and as the white haired boy ran to the Friendship Tree, his shadow chased him as if it did not want to become separated from the boy that had once again found this magic. When he reached the tree, he stopped and looked up to where he could see once more the silvery butterflies spinning in the moons light. As he climbed the tree, he spied the jewel like ladybugs with their red and pink spots swaying in the gentle breeze as if they were alive. Yes the magic was back, but what of his friends he thought?

Just then he heard a loud giggling and as he looked out from the tree, his two dearest friends could be seen running whilst holding hands and calling his name. The flowers brushed against them as they ran side-by-side, ever so careful so as not to fall, and when they saw the white haired boy, they ran even faster. He climbed down from the tree and when they reached him, they gave him a hug and cried. “Is it true, is your magic back?” He nodded and for a moment he thought to explain, but then they would never believe this story, after all only he believed in ghosts, and he was afraid that he might scare them.

“You know my friends, today I learned, I never really lost my magic. I just stopped looking and forgot that you are my magic. What we have is something that few others will ever have the true pleasure of, a friendship so true and more than magical in its own right. After all this time, all I had to do was believe, the one thing I have told you both so many times before. Now I shall never forget, I will never stop believing and your smiles will be the inspiration for the magic I shall weave.”

They climbed the Friendship Tree and within the Book of Dreams they wrote this thought.

Sometimes we look so hard that we fail to see the simplest of things. The magic is not within one alone, it is a gift shared and through the thoughts and dreams we share, the magic will come to us all. Treasure the friendships closest to you, because they are the truest and most magical gifts that you could ever ask for.


Read Full Post »

So simply how the words did flow,

Like magic from my mind.

Now I search with all I am,

Words I need I just can’t find.


Yes words are there in many forms,

But the magic it has gone.

I just don’t know what’s missing now,

My words they are alone.


Sadness washes over me,

And a tear forms in my eye.

I fear the day is coming soon,

Where the words I have will die.


The Friendship Tree it still stands tall,

The friendship still holds strong.

So why is it the words won’t come,

What have I done wrong.


Maybe words were written,

When other words inspired.

Like the many seasons in our lives,

They’ve come and gone with time.


Words that spoke of many things,

Tales of children running free.

Now they’re gone and I can’t find,

The child inside of me.


I sit in dappled forest light,

No faeries can I find.

The thoughts that once became the words,

No longer in my mind.


I only hope the day will come,

Where once more I can see.

All the things I used to know,

So the stories they will be.

Read Full Post »