A Pixie Emerald Dream

what gentle peace,
there is to share,
of a haven, seen,
lazily focused
upon the sleeping night,
of warm
reflections,
within an emerald dream,
where journeys,
from millpond lake
to trickling, clear,
flourescent stream,
cross, meandering hills
and swaying fields
where dance,
the friendly pixie folk,
both little, and tall,
in the fertile land
that's nature blessed
with a timeless wonder,
of a gaelic,
romance...
such journeys
we're told,
with a lilting smile,
are best,
not started,
from just right here,
but from the path
where two roads meet,
without a care,
to take, whatever,
route,
to the undiscovered,
who knows where...
there, we'll chance
to dream again
of liquid, pastures,
and a river of life,
that beats a flow,
to the lyrical heart,
in a walk along
a moonlit bay,
to the softest
pixie eyes of green,
where wondrous words,
a tapestry create,
with heaven's border,
of bounteous beauty,
and a poet's
misty sheen...