Oh red fairy,
where did you get to?
Come visit me, won’t you,
at my window tonight?
Like you did before,
back in the age of possibilities.
Slip the green foreboding gaze,
of the fairy queen,
defy her jaundiced law.
Slip in between,
the hornbeam trees,
come flutter on spring-loaded breeze
to see your mortal lover once more.
Come via the old familiar path,
over the crooked stile,
along the brook a winding sunken mile.
I’ll mark the way,
with tea lights in jars,
draped from groaning oaks,
and sleeping beeches,
tied with golden ribbons you left,
and strands of fairy hair I stole.
Follow the fuzzy bunting,
through the boundary gate,
and around the dry stone wall,
past the pacing caged old mare grunting.
past the hanging tree …
but look away for me …
Mistress come to your master,
I need to believe in fairy magick again tonight,
to bring me back from the brink,
before I sink too low,
before I let this last ponderous tangle
of strands of childhood wonder go,
in exchange for those that twang in off-key tones,
which bode no good for battered bones,
before the book of fairies closes,
for the long bedtime.