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The Day I Met The Fey

They flit through the forest and I follow,

my curiosity burning as bright as their lights.

I hear the whirr of their wings, their tiny laughs

and then a song of beckoning.

They’ve noticed that I’m here.

Oh! How far I’ve come from the edge of the wood.

Too far. I must return.

But I can’t turn my eyes

from the wisp-like Fey.

They flit through the forest and I follow.

Written in the Speculative Poetry workshop at Au Contraire 2013
 

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