Fairies

There is a place where fairies go,

When day of mischief is no more.                                                              

So sad a place

Flowers droop their heads, 

Their petals fallen, to form  fairy beds.

     Fireflies light the cobblestone

Leading the way to paths unknown,

Enticed by the light the fairies give chase,

One last dance

There's mischief to make.

Tired at last and there in the glen,

The night moon glowing beckons them in,

To lay upon the flower beds.

    With lavender still sweet in the air

And crickets chirping in woodland near,

The fairy rests her weary head

While spiders weave their fine silk threads.

With dragonflies inspecting webs,

Each fairy while being entombed in silver threads,

Is courted by the bullfrogs song.

   Then carried off to the gardeners shed

By other winged outdoor friends.

Hidden in the rafters there,

Protected from winter's midnight air.

If the gardener knows this tale,

He knows what winter will entail,

And leaves upon the rafters there

The sleeping fairy in her lair.

Come spring when crocuses show their heads

And the sun shines on this flower bed,

Planted with the gardeners care,

    While your admiring his flowers there,

And something whispers in your ear,

Or catches at your lock of hair,

Perhaps- you'll see a fairy fair!