Fairy Dance Part 2 (Half-Remembered Dreams) Poem by Isadora Quagmire

The Little Folk flit from sight, from where the sunlight gleams
On forest paths, too open to the day,
To secret vales, like half-remembered dreams,
Where ancient oak and tangled ivy sway.
Beneath the roots of timeless, gnarled old trees,
That wear the moss of ages on their bark,
They weave their homes with skill, unheeding breeze,
And light their lamps when all the world grows dark.


In cups of foxglove, purple, deep, and grand,
Or bell-shaped blooms that nod upon the stem,
They find their chambers in the enchanted land,
A tiny world, a sparkling, hidden gem.
Behind the waterfall, where mists arise,
And rainbows gleam in spray of diamond light,
A crystal cave, unseen by human eyes,
Holds courts unseen throughout the day and night.