DM (21/04/88 / Dublin)


The forest floor is where they hide
In their splendid little world.
Tucked away discreetly
Where lays water, leaves and wood.

Capricious little creatures
With wings that sparkle so.
The gift of magic powers
Perhaps your friend or foe.

Invisible to many eyes
Yet mischievous in being.
These quirky tiny persons
Use spells that are not for seeing.

Their activities are but fanciful
And boundaries keep us away.
They choose for us to see them
They choose for us to stay.

We’re looked at as amusement
As they play their little jokes.
You’ll think you’re going crazy
That maybe it’s a hoax.

Mythical they seem to be
Something not so true.
But if they choose to visit
More the fool you.

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Comments (1)

Ah! The Fairies dance And make a bit of fun As they ply their magic Before the day is done. But it's after dark When they come into their own For they are up to mischief And wont leave you alone. They hide things from you Like your glasses or your beer Then just when you think you've found them It's the crunch that you hear. And the sound that you think you heard Is nothing more or less Than the Fairies A-playing in the glass. So curse them not for doing What they alone can do For the Fairies are amongst us Just waiting for me and you. And they'll have their pleasure As for certain they will And be there in the morning Pearing in over the window sill. s (They're an international bunch that inhabit the swamps of Florida as well. Thanks for reminding me of their presence.)