Fairies knit tales, but they don’t have tails, I don’t think.  
Dog’s do.
Long,
with an abrupt end – that’s usually moving,
while never escaping its tether.
Is that the idea? – that no matter how far the tail goes,
it will never get out of hand.
Unless it’s docked of course – that is the saddest tail,
a stump of a tail that still tries its best,
but is destined for a short and disappointing end.

If I were a dog without a tail, I think I’d think it was the end of the world.

If I were a fairy without a tale – I would be sadder still.

The End.

It's funny how people say for others
"Don't judge a book by its cover".
Honey, I've read the whole series -
I still want my refund,
Believe me, that story never got interesting nor pretty.
It was comfort when you're feeling down,
It was home when no one else was around,
It was fun, when you needed a good time to laugh.

Why I want a refund you'd ask?
The magic forest isn't just pretty fairies and unicorns, right?
So was this book.
Cover ain't pretty, but we don't judge it - we give it a try.
Yet, under all the magic,
there's something scary, that could make you lose your pride.
Ugly witches, goblins, trolls,
but isn't the forest also their home?
Story can't always be bright,
But when the dark consumes all the light,
the book is no longer your anchor.
The pages contain ungly spells that make you feel like you're reading something else.
One of the trolls probably tried to trick me - he succeeded.
Can't believe once I've said this book was everything I needed.

Could be the troll,
could be the narrator,
could be just me,
but the comforting fairy tale,
is no longer what it used to be.

And I believe you feel the same way as me,
as this was our first and last journey,
cause the story got way too ugly so we both decided that it's just not worth it.

So, you see, I didn't judge it before,
nor will I do it now.
Yet, I'd like to bring it all back,
wishing I've never read that series nor reach its finale.

she's made of honey,
vinegar,
and some flower seeds

A fairy
who
only
flew
under
the fall
of night
met her
lover
under
the songs
of stars
in choirs
of light,
they rest
under
the petals
of a white
rose, her
lover asks,
“how can
I find words
to paint
beauty
with my
lips?”
to which
the fairy
says to
him,
“why do
you feel
the will
to open
your
lips?
all that
slumbers
awaken
when
the eyes
alone find
beauty”
they
gaze
upon the
white
lanterns
of the
dark
in a
ripple
of tides
in the
leaves,
the wings
of a bird
drifting
as a
dream in
awakening,
the fairy
rises with
her lover,  
amongst the
moonflowers
and violets
above,
they flew
by lunar
guidance
towards
a field
of indigo
shades,
they descend
and softly
rest upon
the yellow
hearts,
the fairy
turns to
her lover,
and says,
“the
leaves
sing as
our own
tale, in
symphony
with the
delicate
branches
of our veins,
we lie
here and
hear the
music we
once had
sought to
hide, we
wished to
write about
it, rather,
we closed
our eyes,
for the ones,
as us, who
tightly
caged
their  
words are
the ones
with the
deepest
wells of
feeling,
we are
living,
breathing
oceans,
clothed
in skin,
living tiny
moments
of poetry
every
hour,
don’t
you
see
this?”
to which
he says,
“I do,
and here
it comes,
the
golden
light”
it arrives,
in touch
of all that
it sees,
and the
fairy
whispers,
“let us
sleep,
and
return
as specks
of time”
they close
their eyes,
the bird
rests upon
a lone
tree,
the peace
of the
Idyll, in its
picturesque
eternity,
prevails.

The fairies of colour
lovely might give you
the whole ball of wax.
With the algorithm on your side
but how long can one hold the water  
walking on a deep spinning earth?
Forever closing in never a perfect circle
there is a fine gap an unseen other side
maybe until the moon if ever
reaches out to the deep walking earth  
the pi creeps in the sun follows by!

As a child I listened for small voices

Little footsteps and mini hand prints

Night light left on
To welcome the visitors

They never said hello

I guess I’ll never know….