|I swore I saw a fairy,
just sitting on the shelf,
at least, with little wings,
I don't think that she's an elf.
Where did she come from?
Why is she here?
Wait, is that a cellphone
that's she holding to her ear?
Since when do fairies
use modern technology?
I thought that they were mystic
and all...you know, mythology.
Do you suppose she knows
that I know that she's there?
I haven't moved a muscle yet,
I don't think that I dare.
Maybe she thinks that I'm
still watching Youtube on my phone,
maybe she thinks I'm
caught up in the zone.
Ooh, she's moving!
She's fluttered to the door.
Do I just let her leave?
I want...I want to see some more.
I'd actually like to talk to her,
if fairies can even talk.
For all I know, they cluck or caw
or tweet or chirrup or squawk.
"Fairy," I whisper,
soft and low,
"Please wait," I beg,
"Please don't go."
The fairy turned and smiled at me,
clearly not surprised.
Apart from wings and pointy ears,
she was like a person, just pint sized.
"I must depart," she tinkled,
in a voice high pitched and clear,
"but if you like, I can come back.
Would you like me to, my dear?"
I nodded, enthusiastically,
and agreed as quickly as I could,
then the fairy disappeared,
but hopefully not for good.
I can't believe I saw a fairy,
in my very own bedroom.
And to think that she is coming back,
at least, so I assume.
Will it be today again, or
maybe even next week?
I realise it might be years yet,
a prospect oh so bleak.
But one day she'll be back,
and I will call you here to join me.
Then maybe you'll believe this tale,
and what I saw, you too will see.
A fairy in my bedroom
Posts from This Journal “poems” Tag
Petals of a rich, vivid fuchsia slouch in drunken dishevelment, glutted on sweet rain.
A pyre for dreams and discord, for savage expectations and risky opportunities, sends shadows to dance along the walls, entwined with the…
Never have I wanted so much to die. A heartbreaking echo from years past whispered in my memories, of a time the sea tempted you to wade in…