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