FANTASIA:

I wandered through the old & oaken woods,

Where the ravens blushed & old yews stood,

Where cold streams giggled & called my name,

And hob-goblins bowed & deemed me a Dame.

Rooks curtsied ebon with the tips of their wings,

And bees kissed me softly without barbed stings,

Bluebells nodded, dainty daisies winked & smiled,

Saying one & all, “Welcome to here-our pretty child”.

Otters frolicked, toads sang & red foxes shyly peeped,

Through moss-clad stones, ancient waters coldly seeped,

While faeries danced upon the spotted toadstools heads,

And wee woodland creatures curled up in autumnal beds.

Am I only dreaming, or is this true, in all that I´m seeing?

Small animals talking & dancing & strange little beings,

“If you believe it, you´ll create it”, said the wise old owl,

And in the distant moonlight, I heard the grey wolf howl.