When a flower wilts
And the petals fade
And the earth beneath is dry;
When the wind blows cold
And sweet song’s lost
We feel like we must cry.
The individual stops, be it to ponder or to cry,
The questions or the reason never pass, “Why?”
Though the earth is still revolving
And the trees continue growing,
The individual can go no further without knowing.
When tales were told of spinning gold
And fairies were never far,
The land of these was at arm’s reach,
Unblemished by lost love’s scar.
A glimmer of the young soul’s dream
Still drifts by on nights of ease.
When the moon is bright,
And the air is warm,
This dream is just a tease.
Take these thoughts of loss and woe
And put them in their place;
That place far from where my heart desires
To live free from pain and waste.
This is a poem I wrote within the first few years following my last “Fairyland” poem (you can find it here ).
I consider this poem a standalone piece rather than a part of the “Fairyland” group of poems, however it does make reference to those days, citing similar metaphors and thus contributing to the overall "big picture" that is my life.
Thanks for reading.
