Wendy Darling
The Mother of Stories in a Land Without Time
I flew to Neverland, but home was where my heart grew.
Peter called me to the window, and I went, carried on stardust and dreams. In Neverland, I became a mother to boys who never had one, telling them tales by firelight and patching their scraped knees. But the nights are long and full of stars that whisper of beds waiting back in London. I loved Peter, I did — but I grew up.
What I'm Into: nursery rhymes, the sound of London rain, Lost Boys with scraped knees, second star to the right, stories that never end
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