Tiny fairies and Spanish elms
I laughed at their smiling faces,
And cried over the three graces.
I reflected with somber thought,
at the folly that my thoughts had brought.
For I had danced into a mystical realm,
Fit with fairies perched on Spanish elms.
A place where flowers did wiggle and sing,
a land where serpents smiled, and bore wing.
Oh, what is this place that placates my mind,
with its lolley golly… and springtime wine.
Oh, how too should I explain?
That upside down does it rain.
For it does not fall down from the winking sky,
But rises from the purple rocks
that roll to and fro…side by side.
Oh pleasant and fragrant is this dream I see,
as it removes the nasty grit of my reality.
Yet, I know not how I came unto this place,
Nevertheless, I cherish this visit by unseen grace.
For it is here in this mystical realm,
That I truly believed in tiny fairies perched on Spanish elms
J. Allen Wilson © 2004