My Fallen Fay
Twas’ by a waterfall quite late,
Beneath the stars, full moon awake,
I saw my tiny love, my Fay,
Upon a mossy bank, she lay;
At first glance, I thought a dragonfly,
Poor thing had died whilst on the fly,
Fell there dead on that cold wet ground,
Until a closer look, bent down;
What I thought a mosquito hawk,
Sent me shivers whilst I gawked,
Arms, two legs, such delicate wings,
With Violet gown laid my undine;
I dare not touch her least she break,
Then realized it was my fate,
To take her home, to mend her there,
My little Fay with golden hair;
I placed her in a matchbox bed,
A cotton ball beneath her head,
Cut blankets from a silken scarf,
And tucked her in with weeping heart;
The days that passed where dreary ones,
For I was worse than faerie dumb,
And cursed myself each pacing night,
Inept to help my fading sprite;
With drooping eyes, and quite depressed,
I felt my heart sink in my chest,
My dear sweet Fay was turning blue,
And there was nothing I could do;
My shoulders shook, my tears were rain,
My love for Fay an aching pain,
I prayed take me, take me instead,
Then little Fay moved in her bed;
Into the air, a dart she flew,
Her wings a blur, no longer blue,
Around my head, she circled twice,
Then out the window, lost to night;
My heart became an empty thing,
Until I heard the buzz of wings,
And saw sweet Fay had spun around
With wand in hand, she shrunk me down;
My clothes are piled on the floor,
Gargantuan garb, which I once wore,
Dear Fay prefers my naked skin,
And woods have spider webs to spin.
Copyright © Claire De La Grange | Year Posted 2006
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