Flitting figures dart about in my mind-faeries-
an array of colour- a spectrum
formed by these small spectral beings
makes me ponder over their very existence.
Surely this is a hallucination,
it is far too perfect to be real.
Yet I still wish I could be amongst them,
flitting through the orchids and vines,
basking in the eerie glow of the moonlit lake,
gazing at the twinkling stars,
feeling the cool breeze gently flowing around me in caressing wisps.
All of this fills my imagination,
and encompasses my mind.
I long for the day when all is but a mystical dream.
Rebecca Roeder
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/phantasmagoria-of-faeries/
