Untitled.
A land where pixies thrive and fairytales come to life
They spoke in Metaphor -
a tongue, ageless in lore -
and pranced around
waving their chatoyant wings
Muggles don’t see them
Muggles don’t believe
but do you?
In the iridescence of sun on grass,
I saw them, and many others.
I was in a book, and the clouds
and the bubbles that never burst
and the princes of yore.
