My shower of joy

for the little children

so far away from home,

this new world of imagining

the truth of fairy tales to dance,

spinning around in fields of dreams

the ocean waves shining on the shore,

a distant passage to the end of the world.


Sculptured stones of old covered by moss

where mermaids frolic in the ocean wide,

the tides swirling through the ages

with tales told from long ago,

leaves whispering alive

now weaved in gold,

calling me home

the tiny fairy.


Dreaming

this new scene

fantasy come true,

why not a carpet ride

goblins in the Celtic forest,

their wicked queen of spades

wandering in the fields of doubt,

are fairies only in your imagination?


The king in a golden gown rising up

banishing her drifting in the clouds,

high with butterflies flying by

wide eyed where are we,

in this land of paradise

for the little children,

their fairy tale

come true.