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Fairy Meadow

 I live in a fairy meadow

where leaves clap as I pass,

where each branch leans close

to caress my cheeks.


The song of birds sings my heart,

leaves from last fall

crunch beneath my feet,

and the light plays with shadows

as if it, too, were on a date with me.

I do not crave human touch,

the trees are enough.


Butterflies sync their wings to my song,

streams curve in my body’s grace,

flowers tilt their yellow faces

to be near me.


I glow among the petals—

my skin alight with beautiful, pink joy

faith ignites my heart again

to the flutter of butterfly wings.


My feet refuse to leave their soft perch;

my heart yearns for the trail

among the tall trees.

The sky beckons me;

the trees, the mountains,

they call my name.


There are ducks and bees,

turtles and doves,

pines and firs,

fish beneath the rippling hush,

and countless unseen chirps

that thread the air like silk.


I live in a fairy meadow,

and this is my home.

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