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The birth of a fairy,
though a flower may die,
brings yellow and crimson
and gold to the sky,
angels blush lavender,
lilac and rose,
Apollo’s blood child
wavers and blows,
across dancing lilies
of valley and Nile,
where laughter is light
and tears can’t disguise,
swirling realm of the fay,
under pale, cobalt skies,
though silver be stolen
the child of fay hides,
amongst the leaves
of windblown dreams,
a feathery chariot drawn
over cordoned seas,
to visions of Venus,
so pure and subdued,
her flame imbued face
reflects only you,
while dawn’s liquid fingers
caress the day,
dew’s dripping veil revealing
the birth of the fay.

~S.K.Lindeman©2009 NY USA~

 

Image from here.