I still believe in Fairies

Fairies

Capricorns and Unicorns



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 Capricorn and Unicorns a fairy tale story
in my dreams where fairies dancing in my little flower garden

Different colors of purple, pink and white as fairy glow

 falls and twinkle in the midnight twilight.

Their tiny see through wings, flicker in the moonlight
they fall on their back and start giggling..

This is real magic, as they listening to the songs of the frogs

They delighted me, and I know their story just began….

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~ I’m a Faerie ~


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~ I’m a Faerie ~

I breathe in air that is as sweet as sugar.

My heart beats only for my Love…

My skin is a peaches n’ cream combination…yea…yea..!

I think of beautiful things only….

My tongue says only clean words,

And, my ears hear just the same.

I wake up every morning and know…

that I am special.

I am beautiful, graceful, and perfect.

I am a faerie……

 


Fairies in my Little Garden



 


FAIRIES IN MY GARDEN

In my garden, near the bottom,
In a place so long forgotten,
Where the vegetation’s rotten,
Lives a fairy family.

Now, their story is so tragic,
They have lost the gift of magic,
And you don’t want to lose that trick,
Just between you and me.

So they spend all day just searching,
Quickly, at each other’s urging,
And it’s getting to be verging,
On the manic, don’t you see?

But I think that we are able,
To return their mood to stable,
Put them back in land of fable,
Oh, how happy they would be.

Magic dust! It’s hard to fake it,
But I’ll try my best to make it,
And then you and I can take it,
Down the garden, you and me.

And we’ll give it to the fairies,
It will stop them being wary,
They’ll return to lands less scary,
It’ll happen, wait and see.

Now, the fairies are so happy,
And their feet are all a-tappy,
For the’ve got their magic, snappy,
And they’re heading for that tree.

It’s goodbye to us they’re waving,
And it’s memories we’re saving,
Of those fairies all behaving,
In a manner filled with glee.

 

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Sunflower fairy


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Fields of yellow faces following the sun
Impossible to count them each and every one,
Waving gently in the breeze they make a sunny sigh.
Stretching up their heads they smile at passers by.
Lots of little fairy helpers for the sunflower’s needs
They are the hidden secret for scattering the seeds
Hiding amongst the petals opening at dawn
Working all day to scatter, so new flowers will be born
And weary from the day’s work, at dusk with failing light
They close the petal shutters to rest throughout the night.
Should you be a believer, next time you pass, please try
To spend some time alone, amongst the faces to the sky
You may be the lucky one, for a magic sight to share
A sunflower fairy’s smile is a ray of light so rare

 

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LEAVE AN EMPTY SPOT…


 
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Leave an empty spot in your garden,

so that the fairies have a place to dance.

Leave an empty spot in your mind,

so that fairies may run and prance.

 In the garden,

 

 they spread pixie dust all over the leaves.

When the moon hits the garden just right,

you can see it shimmer lightly,

 in the cool night breeze.

 You can see them,

 too,

 if you just say please,

they’ll dance before you with relative ease.

 

 


FAIRYLAND


 
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Do you remember that careless band,
Riding o’er meadow and wet sea-sand,
         One autumn day, in a mist of sunshine,
Joyously seeking for fairyland?
The wind in the tree-tops was scarcely heard,
The streamlet repeated its one silver word,
         And far away, o’er the depths of wood-land,
Floated the bell of the parson-bird.

Pale hoar-frost glittered in shady slips,
Where ferns were dipping their finger-tips,
         From mossy branches a faint perfume
Breathed o’er honeyed Clematis lips.

At last we climbed to the ridge on high
Ah, crystal vision! Dreamland nigh!
         Far, far below us, the wide Pacific
Slumbered in azure from sky to sky.

And cloud and shadow, across the deep
Wavered, or paused in enchanted sleep,
         And eastward, the purple-misted islets
Fretted the wave with terrace and steep.

We looked on the tranquil, glassy bay,
On headlands sheeted in dazzling spray,
         And the whitening ribs of a wreck forlorn
That for twenty years had wasted away.

All was so calm, and pure and fair,
It seemed the hour of worship there,
         Silent, as where the great North-Minster
Rises for ever, a visible prayer.

Then we turned from the murmurous forest-land,
And rode over shingle and silver sand,
         For so fair was the earth in the golden autumn,
That we sought no farther for Fairyland. 


 

 

CHILD IN THE PICTURE


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