I remember fairy tales
The dramatic intonation of the story teller The books with gilded pictures Pages sometimes glossy, Sometimes thin and worn.
Stories of enchanted woods and jungles
Of hope and disaster
The most unlikely circumstance
But almost always a miracle
The good dragon, the fairy godmother
Talking animals and secret doors
Rabbits, toads, princes and queens,
Treasure, flying carpets, evil lurking like dark clouds, a sinister gift clad in unsuspecting beauty to the innocent. There is a path through the wood.
Vines and ancient trees, willow and yew; Roses with thorns and wild berries Songbirds and moss and stones of all colors; In fairy tales there are always twists.