I dodge again the real world – full of terror and killings and strong ‘negative portions’ in the news headlines and I opt for a walk down, back along the stream, where the sounds are of frogs and crickets and birds and rippling water over some lazy rocks, just sitting there, shiny smooth.
If I were a fairy, that’s where I’d go…..but who knows, maybe every fairy’s different.
Fairy Jolie
Sitting on a root ‘neath a large oak tree
down along the stream, at the bottom of the hill,
she sat all alone, sobbing, drinking grass tea
sitting on a root ‘neath a large oak tree.
I hid in the grass as she tangled with a bee
who quickly left, leaving her still
sitting on a root ‘neath a large oak tree
down along the stream, at the bottom of the hill.
Standing up now and looking around,
her eyes gazing straight across the stream.
She’s a wisp in the wind, nary a pound,
standing up now and looking around.
What should I do in this moment, profound?
I don’t want to scare away this dream,
standing up now and looking around
her eyes gazing straight across the stream.
Dancing o’er the reflection, down in the stream
splashing the water with her feet,
her pointed ears turn to the flash of a beam
dancing o’er the reflection, down in the stream.
Cautiously panning, each move is a scheme
still daintily fluttering to a dragonfly’s beat.
Dancing o’er the reflection, down in the stream
splashing the water with her feet.
Waving at the dragonfly then flying towards the sun
where I watched her ‘til my eyes couldn’t see,
I ran down to the water where I saw her having fun
waving at the dragonfly then flying towards the sun.
The dragonfly, still ‘dancing’ there, I swear, said she would come
to dance -just whisper her name, though, nevermore have I seen, Jolie,
waving at the dragonfly then flying towards the sun
where I watched her ‘til my eyes couldn’t see