Small pebble
Little one
Bearcub roar
The faerie comes
Stepping down from wooden bough
Fine fey feet upon falling leaf
She stands before him
Willowy fingers running through his hair
"Dear son,"
Voice a wind through the trees
Purple eyes like swollen stormcouds
"Go and be one of them."
She leaves
He knows
The soft flutter of whispery wings
Exile
It was a Sunday that they found him
Half drowned in a summer stream
Wearing nothing but the water
Sleeping away a fey summer's dream
He lives and breathes as the wingless ones
The son of Wataame's adoptive love
Gathering what wisdom he may
For the day that he returns to her side
What waits for him in the world of men?
A contest entry
- Give me: Fantasia of Fairy Tales From all Over the Kingdom by BlueEyeWonder1988.
300 points, ended February 16, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Poems of Enchantment... Group Contest for The Enchanted Realm by Melodies.
600 points, ended February 13, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Respect is asked for, given and understood... :)
Comments
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Oh, I do admire and truly love this darling enchanted adventure.
So cleverly written and penned. 
Thank you for sharing this with us, for it is precious.
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I am sorry to misunderstand . . .
I don't know what a Tuathal is can explain in the notes possibly? So I can understand your tale more. I like it and the words I just don't understand the meaning. Make it clear but creative as I stated. Good try , though. Keep writing , and goodluck in my contest. -
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Tuathal was, in the Irish myths, a High King of Ireland.
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