Fairy of the Poem 2

there is this little nymph of a fairy that lives between the lines of the poem takes daily strolls through the stanzas nature opened in sonnet the day she was born she takes the written word in so gracefully raises her glass high in a toast tells those who will listen all the mysteries of the poems that stir her soul if this fairy ever needed a reason for the rhyme, the time would be now these darkened days cry for desperate ways where only a fairy can tell the purity of the poetic essence the fragrance that permeates the unknown the heat that burns in the written word in the poems that she calls her own