Fairy Childrenę1999 by Genea Parker
Shy, nimble creatures
At play in the thick forest.
Their sacred games
Unknown to even angels.
Collecting nature's opals -
Dewdrops at dawn.
They whisper softly to the breeze.
A passionate blush
Hints at the fiery orb's potential.
The littlest one pauses in midflight,
Stares at the tattered kite
In the tree, long forgotten
By the boy who pretended to fly.
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