Wings
She rests her glittering wings
and sprawls on the new grass,
hidden in the corner of an overgrown garden.
Every rush of wind jars her,
while she shuffles out of sleep,
watching for a wisp of dandelion.
Every sweet blossom is a haven,
a shelter that surrounds her and supports her,
until, like a jinn, she spreads her magic.
She rests her glittering wings
and sprawls on the new grass,
hidden in the corner of an overgrown garden.
Every rush of wind jars her,
while she shuffles out of sleep,
watching for a wisp of dandelion.
Every sweet blossom is a haven,
a shelter that surrounds her and supports her,
until, like a jinn, she spreads her magic.
Sometimes I wish for a fairy. Maybe a fairy godmother. Someone to take me away from here, into the past, into the future, somewhere inside the castle walls. Sometimes I wish for a fairy to take me beyond the known world into the realms of imagination, the world beyond the facade, the place where everything becomes new with a swish of wand.
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