Maybaline and the Traveler

A young traveler settled in the woods
His journey not done, yet hardly begun.
He stopped to rest in a shady acre
A circle of sunlight cascading down.
He looked around the vast expanse of green
When his sight affixed upon a flower,
A purple rose sitting just above a
Log covered in toadstools. He moved closer
To the weed, having never in his life
Seen anything so beautiful as it.
His hand caressed the delicate petals,
His nose sniffed the tantalizing fragrance.
“I shall pluck it and take it home with me,”
Thought he, enraptured. Then heard he a voice,
A voice so pure, so beautiful and dear
It said “Who is it? Is somebody there?”
The boy startled, charming though the words were.
The voice spoke again, “Do not be alarmed.
I do not wish you to leave. Pray, stay now.
I would love to have some new company.”
He traced the voice to the spring, where he passed
By so many times as a child, but was
Asked not to go near, so as not to vex
The spirits that resided in the trees.
He parted the hanging willow, and what
Did his eyes gaze upon but a maiden
Bathing in the spring, its pristine waters.
Her fair skin smoother than silk or marble,
Glistening with the sunlight that shone through.
Her jet black hair entwined with weeds of green.
Her lips a red rose, blooming at a kiss.
Her eyes an icy blue, calm like the spring.
Yet when he gazed upon her his eyes fixed
Upon her Plexiglas wings, transparent
And glossy, shimmering with the water.
“Hark!” cried the nomad, falling on his knees.
“Never in my young years did I ever
Imagine I’d gaze upon thee! Now all
My cherished memories up until now
Have been rendered cheap trifles by this day!
Thou art a daughter of Titania, no?”
The nymph bowed. “Indeed, fair mortal. I am
One of those winged guardians of this
Forest, the earthmother of us all! I
Reside amidst the trees with my siblings,
Spotting any mortal who ventures by,
Deciding whether to blow him a kiss,
Or a curse. We are well-concealed from sight.
One may even look right at us without
Spotting us. I am of the faerie race!”
The youth heaved a heavy sigh. “As a child
I have heard tales about thee and thy race!
Every night, my mother would tuck me in
And tell me tales of the spirits and sprites
Who lived out of human sight! I see that
You are cleansing in this spring. Let me close
These willows and we shall continue our
Conversation anon.” To which the nymph
Responded, “No! You shall not leave my sight.
You see, I have grown up far from humans,
Knowing as little of your race as you
Of mine. If you gaze upon me in awe,
I gaze on you in dire fascination!
I wish to speak with you more, to know more
About your kind. Tell me stories worthy
Of the pens of the Greeks long, long ago.”
The traveler shook like a boy smitten,
Young enough to be one himself. “Fair elf,
Would that I was worthier to cavort
In your company. Pray, tell me your name.”
“Quite. I am Maybaline, a mere nymph, not
The spirit of aught in particular;
This wood is my home, though I suppose home
Is anywhere for such a lowly nymph
As me. But, pray, tell me, what is your name?”
The nomad bowed. “You may call me Ian.
I am lowly too (though you not so much,
Seeing as I am but a mere mortal);
I travel from town to town, hoping to
Get work, though I have not chosen a trade.
A pitiable predicament, this,
Though I am a small human, you a nymph,
A spirit of the woods. The chains that hold
Me down do not impede thee horribly.”
“Oh, thou mortal, how misguided thou art,”
Replied the fairy. “My sadness is worse,
For our tears are in the rain, our bliss in
The sun, our tantrums in the wind. But stop!
What is that flower thou carries with you?
That purple rose! And how came you by it?”
Ian held it out. “I found it, nothing
More. At the time it was the most lovely
Thing I had seen or touched (though now thou has
Passed it) that I just had to pluck it from
Its branch. Forgive me for disturbing it,
But I must have it, at whatever cost.”
But Maybaline replied, “What red is this
That brushes over my cheeks? Why, thou has
Found my spirit flower. I see that you are
Confused. Forgive me, and let me explain.
Every nymph and faerie is matched to a
Flower which bears their essence within it.
There is no doubt about it; since thou has
Found my flower and brought it to me, thou
Are my one true and dear love! Come to me,
My darling! Let me take you with me to
My abode in the weeds, where you will live
With me and no longer know pain, only
Bliss and ecstasy reserved for us nymphs!”
And so she grabbed him and kissed him, and flew
Off to her home in the forest, far from
Prying eyes, to take him as her lover
And be his mystical bride, forever.