A.W. Books & Poetry

Mystic fern field,

Cress freckled gully,

Crystal circle chanting hymns,

Twirling sugar maples dancing within.

Daffodils face, hands strike seven

Barefoot on the mossy hill,

Following the stars to find the moon,

Quaffing the indigo empyrean,

Dripping through the dusty hammock,

Dowsing the day fire in violet mist

Queen Mab’s kiss to the dying day

And as the Sun’s angels fall from Elysium

They sing to Helios above:

“Take me to where the roses grow

And the scent of lilies will lead me home”

~Annalise