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Petals soft of crimson hue
glistening with morning dew
listening to birds sweet song
sun rising for the day of long
Golden rays; they glitter down
onto the village and fairy town
waking tiny Elvyn eyes
anointing them with bluest skies
Travel they into the spring
Through willow boughs they'll spread their wings
take to flight like butterflies
quieting the baby's cries
And when their proper jobs are through
they'll dance around the wood for you
pausing on a toadstool throne
discussing peace of worlds unknown
Then cakes and ale and time to sing
until the Irish Bells cease ring
One last check round baby's bed
and time to rest each sleepy head
on petals soft of crimson hue
awaiting glistening morning dew.
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1 comment:
I notice you mention 'dancing in the wood' often. I like that image. I often walk in the woods, and sit in the woods... but you know what? I don't think I've ever danced in the woods... I think I may be due for the experience. Have you danced in the woods? Was it fun?
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