MARY FLOWERS

A sweet little fairy
    Her name? It was Mary.
    Her wings of gossamer silk.
    Her peach colored cheeks
    As smooth as the streaks
    Of her lips of strawberry milk.

    With rose petal pants
    And a thorn bush lance
    She would fly among all the flowers.
    The blue violets there
    Would fragrance her hair
    And she would sing to them all for hours.

    There was a young man
    Who would visit the glen
    Where the fairy lived and played.
    She would hide in the blooms
    While he smelled the perfumes
    And steal a kiss as he napped in the shade.

    You see, fairies can feel
    'Cause fairies are real
    Even if they're shy and retiring.
    They act as one should
    Never bad, always good
    And their soul is quite awe inspiring.

    Even fairies need love
    Like the skies up above
    Need birds and clouds and the sun.
    Even fairies feel bad
    And often feel sad
    When all there is, is just one.

    One day while she flew
    Across his lips with the dew
    He opened his eyes to see Mary.
    You see, he had known
    The times she had flown
    And he'd kissed the lips of the fairy.

    She hovered right there
    While she looked and he stared
    And she turned and giggled and smiled.
    She sang him a song
    He'd known all along
    Deep in his soul so beguiled.

    Their love for each other
    Was soft like the flutter
    Of fairies wings on a breeze.
    When he would visit
    They would sing and sit
    Under the old willow trees.

    Then came the day
    The young man went away
    To fight in the wars to the west.
    He never returned
    And he never learned
    That the fairy truly loved him the best.

    They say that she died,
    A heartache inside
    For the love of the young man she lost;
    That she cried herself sad
    For a fine young lad
    And her life, true love had cost.

     But I'm not so sure.
     I think love can endure
    As hard as it seems to believe.
    With all things like this,
    Two hearts and a kiss,
    It's better to love then to grieve,

    And there flies without care
    With light sandy hair
    A boy fairy who sings for hours.
    If you look at him close
    He reminds me the most
    Of the young man who loved Mary Flowers.

~Robert E Browne~

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