Jul 31
Yellow Sweater's picture

​A Fairy

I was dancing with the bugs. In the sun where all things dance. In the moonlight when we, the small things, can feel the throbbing rhythm of darkness. I wasn't alive; I was dancing. Then I woke up. I had a face. My wings were beautiful. Their pattern was pleasing. My eyes were a window. My brain: me. My heart: my motor. I laughed at the bugs and their dance.