Playing with Fairies

The moon was large as I had tea with angels.
Playing out conversations I’d made up when I was a girl.
A book was missing from the shelf.
Dust fairies had pushed it out.

The angels and I wandered through clouds of dandelions,
Searching for the missing book.
For our clue we found a trail of buttons.
The gentle laugh of the angels was a beautiful sound.

We followed this trail on and on.
It ended at a well.
We peered inside but there was nothing but weeds.
As we turned to leave I tripped and fell.

An angel knelt down to help me up.
He discovered a note lying in the grass.
We tried to read it but it didn’t make sense.
Someone realised it was a picture drawn in letters.

We went back home to decipher the page.
The picture was of a smile.
To our delight the book had returned home too.
Put neatly back in its place.

The dust fairies had pulled it back in
As a surprise for the angels and me.
The only evidence was the disturbed dust
And a cunning letter smile.

Reflections

So enraptured by your reflection. I was content to just have that because if I turned around it might confirm your existence. I would have to accept that you were real and I would no longer have an excuse to say “no”.

Sometimes I'm just so angry at people and the world, but i have no idea why
and all I can do to make myself better is to break useless things and to let myself cry.
I wonder if any really knows me, and why I automatically hide feelings away
concerned eyes and caring hands ask me what's wrong and I hesitate to say.
I don't want to tell them, I can't be bothered to make them to see
Sometimes I just want to be left to myself, I just want people to let me be.

I heard an echo from within the dark.
I didn’t see you standing in the shadows,
concealed by coarse brick alleyways.

Could you save me from myself?
Force me to feel again?

Leaves flew round in whirlwinds,
mixed with the litter and dust.
Its low rustling and my heavy breathing the only sounds.

Did someone tell me I was beautiful once?
I think so.