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By :
Deborah Susan Jones“Woken in the early morning by
the
ripping,
tearing sound of the roaring, tempestuous wind. . . . .
tearing sound of the roaring, tempestuous wind. . . . .
I went, without a thought, to the
streaming bedroom window, wiped the mist from the pane
to see what
exactly was happening down below in the garden.The skies were starless, the dark
clouds dashed, scudding furiously acrossthe storm-filled heavens.
A gossamer-white mist hung low,
swirling gently.Looking
up with startled gasp, I
saw
before me, the figure, the shape,the caricature of a gnome.
From the book "The
Magic Garden" - See more here!Deborah Susan Jones
