Fairy Tales

On peeping through the aperture inside the old oak tree I gasped with wonder to behold the vision that awaited me For deep inside three fairies slept their delicate wings like lace To attest their actuality a childhood dream I would embrace When I was young, a wee small child, sometimes naughty, sometimes wild I searched in all the nooks and crannies, seeking fairies, so beguiled I came across a barren meadow; an ancient oak was growing there The tree became a favourite haunt, enthralling every daily jaunt I remember telling grownups of the fairies deep inside my tree They laughed aloud, this silly child, who dared display temerity I often sketched or made up songs about my childhood saga Searching for fairies constantly, whilst eating Italian frittata A child no longer I still reflect upon their negativity Accused of telling fairy tales displaying such proclivity Imagination running wild and full of positivity I did see fairies every day, their nuance their transparency Now looking back the gift I had was wacky and unique They said I must stop lying and of fairies never speak Feeling honoured for this gift, so deep within my marrow I celebrate my childhood visions, dismissing minds so narrow And now each day I watch them play around my old oak tree As they perform a show for me, displaying their fragility Each night they fly high in the sky, with silver gossamer wings Like twinkling stars in a moonlit sky, tugging at my heartstrings Written 29th October 2018 For Eight Word Challenge 9 Poetry Contest Sponsor: John Hamilton 4th placement Contest Strand Choice H Sponsor Brian Strand HONORABLE MENTION