Will you come play with me up in my daisy tree?
Isn't it crazy we feel so elated
Just know that I hate it when you have to go

And know that I'll lose you
As soon as I choose to
I'll be the loneliest soul you'll ever know
The sweetest **** to break your heart
And the bluest moon to ever glow

Back to rainy poetry on a morning full of possibility.
Back to layers and winter breathing down my neck.
Back to shivers and cold feet in blue flip flops.
Back to the smell of fresh dew on wet grass, gleaming.
Back to scribbling down my feeling. Back to excited heart palpitations.
Back to new romantic relations.
Back to the beginning or maybe it's the end of summer officially past fall's complacency.
Back to hope fluttering like tiny fairies lifting off from my chest.
Their little smiles and pointed ears possessed.

Don’t believe when humans tell you
Kitty fairies aren’t for real.
They exist and we can see them
No matter how you humans feel.
We, as kitties, use our brains
To protect and defend us all.
We can see things you can’t
And we can hear their fairy calls.

Kitty fairies think they’re clever;
That no one else can see them,
But we cats are on our guard.
Sort of like fuzzy policemen.
We stand prepared to whip them;
They won’t get by with a thing.
We consider them rather like
Nothing less than pests with wings.

But they messed up by coming
Into our own personal territory.
When we get one in our paws
That will end their silly story.
We might play with them a bit
For the first couple of laps
But after that, we will sing
The kitty version of ‘Taps’

So, if you see us sitting calmly
Then suddenly we leap right up
And chase around rather wildly
And knock over your coffee cup,
It’s because we can see them
Some flitting fairy on the wing.
That you can’t see kitty fairies
Doesn’t really mean a thing.

If I am ever lost,
Fear not, for I am either

Lurking in the shadows where the derelict live,
In a suit of fire so the cold and desperate flock toward me.

Or on the twilight streets,
My skirt made of the first twinkling stars swishing about my knees,
Bearing silent witness to the belligerent noise.

I may also be in the meadow outside town
Flaunting the crown of butterflies that the fairies made for me,
As I played with them for as long as the moon hung in the sky.

If I am there and you do not know,
Fear not
For I did not tell you
Because I would like to escape the straightjacket of my home.

Upon their quivering wings,* (Fairy-Land by Edgar Allen Poe)

*small hands grasping too big stems.

little laughter carried on the wind

to beckon you inside.

tall trees fall in, collapsing.

trapped underneath the layers of sea foam green.

breathing in sun dropped laughter,

blindly stumbling through a lilac haze of unsureness.

left to the elements

and lost to the darkness of day time.

jabs left and right prevent the chance,

of wandering in the right direction.

flashes of blue wings and lithe bodies

in front of you,

just out of reach.

and their laughter is drowning you,

slipping into a sleep of the undead but not quite living.

fighting the drowsiness with the only source of strength left,

golden sun slipping through the cracks.

surfacing from the depths of insanity,

their laughter tumbling from your lungs,

able to breath again.

On shaded oaks his hooves he rested
leafs of summer where birds had nested,
with palms he held as fingers gently nestled
asking those who gathered of what was requested.

Wind blew silently through elegant wood melodies,
as creatures listened to soft melody all understood
that he was a creature of lore just like those surrounding.
This musical endeavour, his skill of tune was outstanding.

All moved to these whispers that lingered through air,
as fairies did dance and leafs did sway here and there.
The mood was jubilant as all were in relaxed feeling,
his rhyme of song had been to all so very appealing.