The Old Fairy
There was an old fairy who lived in the woods.
The fairy kids visited often for fun.
This fairy was older than trees, lakes or rocks.
On Fridays, they’d meet and to
her they would run.
Her lips were straight lines and her hair had turned white.
Her skin was all wrinkled, her eyes misty gray.
Her back bowed and bent, her long fingers curved ‘round.
Her voice shook and warbled as she’d smile and say,
“Come in my dear fairies. It’s nice that you came.
I’ll tell you what happened here so long ago.”
The fairies leaned forward to hear her great tales.
To all of their questions the answers she’d know.
She told of the king and the queen of the land,
The dragons who rumbled and hid in the hills,
The trolls and the pixies, the dryads and nymphs,
The unicorns, centaurs, the dwarves and the elves.
She told of adventures and scary, brave quests,
And fights with the evil dark villains of night.
She told of the laughter, the romance and songs,
Of how in the end everything turned out right.
The fairies would giggle and gasp at her tales,
Until they soon had to go back to their home.
Old Fairy would sigh and say, “Dears, come back soon.
I’d rather tell stories than be all alone.”
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