Fairy Tales
The fairies fly and dance around
from lush treetops down to the ground.
Most people call them fireflies,
completely fooled by their disguise.
Asleep by day they dream their dreams
of fairy tales and impish schemes.
When evening comes it's time for fun;
it's time for mischief on the run.
A twinkle here; was that a sneeze?
The faintest song heard on the breeze.
It's just a fairy zipping by;
she's gone before you blink an eye.
They flit and fly with tiny wings
to do those spritely, fairy things.
A bit of magic in the tree;
they're there for those who choose to see.
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