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To: bentfeather

On gossamer wings
of irridescent light
the dragonfly dances tonight
with a dream and a daring
of hope to be sharing,
he flies boldly into our sight.

Dragonfly, dragonfly,
don't fly away home,
on wings shining and pure,
we would travel and roam,
exploring tomorrow
beneath a bright sky,
o may we borrow your wings,
o bright dragonfly?


874 posted on 12/31/2005 7:55:09 PM PST by Knitting A Conundrum (Act Justly, Love Mercy, and Walk Humbly With God Micah 6:8)
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To: Knitting A Conundrum

Ooooo, wonderful.


875 posted on 12/31/2005 8:08:34 PM PST by Soaring Feather (January 1, 2006)
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To: Knitting A Conundrum

The Price of Magic

The wind sings sweet around the faery ring,
under stars as old as time, yet do they shine.
on such a night a mortal man did cross the line,
and listening to the songs of faery, he did sing.

Subtle is the magic upon that emerald isle,
and he felt not the change, even as he did.
It touched him then and with inhibit rid,
he joined in the dancing round the ring awhile.

Drinking of the old potsheen offered with easy grace,
he saw an ageless wonder in each ruddy smiling face.
King Brian was in fine form, dressed up in dainty lace,
sat his horse in handsome style as off they all did race.

first light came ‘tween dawn and dusk, he awakened at last,
and staggered down the hill and the day of things to do.
Yet all that day his mind played many a trick to rue,
he ached to go back, but the way was barred forever fast.

Long he sought the doorway, and in the end left in pain,
for heartaches would follow him, the price of crossing in.
On long nights he sits and listens amid the city’s din,
and tries to hear a faery flute, somewhere in the rain.

Stay off the mounds and leave the ruins to the wee folk,
and listen not to the sweet songs, or have a lively dance
Or your soul’ll always feel the hooves of the Pooka prance,
and you will know the emptiness of their thoughtless joke.

Most don’t understand the sadness in his eyes each night,
or the longing in his heart, for a time now truly in the past.
But I do, and I watch him walk away, either slow nor fast,
thinking of faery aglow, beneath a silver summer’s moonlight.


876 posted on 12/31/2005 10:33:55 PM PST by WayzataJOHNN (Happy New Year to everyone in this delightfully strange family of the Lair)
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