Up into the mountains they climb,
down into the valleys below.
Through forest do they forage.
they come looking for the little folk,
Down by the river they do stop to rest.
I, sitting upon the grass,
by the river bank in the shade,
of the great maple tree,
Hidden in the tall grass,
I peer across the river,
at the men lying about there.
I lie back in the shade.
I daydreamed about the little folk.
What would it be like?,
I mused to myself as I smiled.
Then of a sudden,
darkness set in within me.
What will those men who seek them,
What will they do to the wee folk?
Oh! how I wished I was a fairy,
To go forth and warn my people
Of the danger that approaches.
Down the river a-ways,
it widens out into the sea.
They live in mushroom-shaped homes,
An outsider would not glance twice.
Some live among the reeds,
and the frogs a-peeping,
Guardians of the night.
Some make their homes,
among the trees in the forest.
I so desire to be there,
I cross my fingers,
and close my eyes tight,
and make a wish, I do.
I feel the wind against my cheeks,
and my hair fluttering at my back.
I open my eyes slowly;
vision focuses.
I see the tops of trees below me,
I look to my right;
there are the purple mountains of the east.
I look to my left; I see the turquoise sea.
Below me is where I need to go.
I twist my body through the air,
and dive down to the trees below.
There the other fairies come up to greet me,
Like I had been here before.
There is much dancing and singing,
Happiness and love.
For that day I had kept those men
who seek the little people from finding them.
Even though I found it to be but a dream,
I know that I am a fairy,
In the magical land that lies within.
Cynthia ©
