Shrouded in misty wisps of silken gray,
Kneeling beside the glowing dew-soaked ring
She holds the babe at breast, tears held at bay
And listens to faint twinkling voices sing.
The small one in her arms begins to stir
And chirps a similar sweet vocal note.
Her rosy skin glitters like stars, and her
Eyes sparkle inhumanly as her throat
Beckons the kind that would call her their kin
A sudden silence strikes and stills the grass--
And though the young mother had borne her 'sin'
Alone, ridiculed, scorned--now the lass
At last had hope. She wept into her dress
As the clan cooed o'er their princess.
Author notes
Should any of you ladies ever be impregnated by the fairy king, make sure he pays up.
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