Softly in the waxen light,
through silver hush
of eventide,
the fairies hang their clothes to dry,
deep in the woods,
no need to hide.
For mortal folk are all asleep.
no prying eyes
will see them glide,
from branch to branch they flit and skip,
on moonbeam rays
they seem to ride.
Trees are draped in rainbow hues
as fay fly through
each woodland bower,
and garments flutter in the breeze
to catch the perfume
of each flower.
Bathed in pools of sparkling dew,
stardust sprinkles
a cooling shower,
preparing for each brand new day,
cleansed and renewed
with enchanting power.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
To be one with these beings, or to be them, in a state between waking and sleep, hypnagogic, reveling in the freedom, sights and soft sounds of night, safe from prying eyes of 'mortal folk.'
-
-
Thanks for commenting, briareus. Sorry it has taken me so long to reply, but I haven't been visiting AP properly for a while due to 'family commitments', but I am hoping to be back in the flow now.
Love,
Chrissie
xxxxxxx
-
Adding your comment:
