The Waiting
My mother calls them evil,
She says they will take my away.
I say they are just medieval,
And that with them I would want to stay.
She always warns me of their rings;
How once in them I can never leave.
Yet I see them as ways to receive wings
And dance on Midsummer Eve.
But of course I know to wait 'til dark,
For only then do the Fae appear.
When the sun sets I will embark,
To the land of the fairies like a pioneer.
I hope to meet Queen Mab and her court,
Or maybe King Oberon and his consort.
As I lie in bed pretending to be asleep,
The pent up excitement almost makes me weep.
The stars soon come out to play;
And the clouds are cast in disarray.
The moon looks down on my face,
As I think with longing of that place.
Before too long, sleep takes my mother.
I slip out of bed and sneak to the door.
To stay quite, my laughs I do smother.
I have only just begun my civil war.
I take an apple from the table
So that hunger will not come to me later.
I smile at the thought of what I have left unstable:
The power of my mother, the dictator.
I hear a floor board creak behind me
The color drains from my face as I wonder:
What will become of my glee?
Has my escape been blown asunder?
Without looking back I run blindly,
Caring not if I tread on the rocks kindly.
Before too long, I am clear of the foe.
I look around, but all I can see is a doe.
As I walk towards a group of trees,
On my back I can feel the sea's breeze.
It plays with my hair as if it were at a tourney,
And I say to myself "I have only just begun my journey".