It's       a   desperate          plea
Do    not                ignore    me

I­'d act out
I don't know
what it is about
Take a notice of me
I've been waiting patiently
for not much but all I need is
an attention for a second or three
for without I'll wilt without your sunshine
Please water me with all the love you'd do your plants.


Don't pluck me apart

In the darkest hours,
grief is overpowering.
The stars,
fade.
The moon,
dull.
This grief.
Drowning me in waves.

We are the authors
of our own stories.

But we have yet
to figure out
how it’d all end.

In the land of fairy tales lives a tiny Pixie with golden orbs, etched in detail  
with two pointed ears and pointy hat she is untouchable like the Holy Grail
In the fairy Kingdom lives the Silvan Elf contented with all his Tolkien lore
and every tale brings laughter and flighting, in the Forest of "open doors"  
In this land of fairy tales, a gaggle of mages use elements without trail ;

Little dwarves no bigger then my thumb ducking beneath tall blades of grass
reconciliation spells by magic lanterns lit, from gold to yellow, copper, brass
Their territory and dominion is the land between the trees, while the muses
scribe, on illusionary parchment as translucent as a moon beam, they douse
the fires of reality. In the land of fairy tales only magic lives with cheeky sass

In the mind of children and the very old alike, lives a splendorous green haven
where all fears and loneliness is spoofed away, and all hunger quickly shaven
With mushrooms as tall as I, and crunch bit Cashews as big as a drop of dew,  
no one slumbers without a full tummy and a yamusical song of sweet renew
Magical moon whispers and pranksters with a lisper, they even got a raven

Flying solo in the sky, in this fantabulous land of imagination Victor, is hero.