It may have been out of place,
The intent somewhat askew,
it could have been the planet’s course
or the light from the full moon.
how would I know the dream,
Without the moments stretch,
At least in reaching for the light,
may know there is nigh to catch.
the fairy pond shimmers in silver ray,
and the ethereal mists hover low,
my hand the surface breaks,
as the mist surrounds me whole.
The suns light will break through,
in the still breath of morn,
the dove will sing the choirs song,
as such a new day is born.
the fairies dance to timed twangs,
the ladies sing and muse,
The children laugh and carry on,
The elders speak lost truth.
now at least I know for sure,
there is magic in each fairy night,
when the silver turns to gold,
in the dream before the sight.