Where the Fairies Dance
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Where the Fairies Dance

A Reflection on Childhood Imagination

Where the Fairies Dance

In the woods behind our house,

A creek ran through our neighborhood;

We would play in it during summer camp,

Looking for tadpoles and water-striders.

I would make boats out of leaves

For the fairies stuck on the rocks.

Maybe they could swim—

I didn't ask (I was six).

Beyond the main channel

Of the Intracoastal Waterway,

The mangroves hang low,

A verdant tunnel

Leading into the unknown.

An unseen hand

Refuses to release my heart,

My mind fixed

On what lies just beyond

The next bend in the creek

The arcane tales

Speak of a world

Parallel to our own—

Of magic and beauty,

Where the merfolk play

And the fairies dance.

Did six-year-old me

See that ancient realm

In the iridescence

Of a dragonfly's wing,

In the gentle hush

Of water on stone,

In how the trees

Embraced the creek,

The leaves catching the light

As they danced in the wind?

Is that what pulls me

So strongly,

So fiercely,

To succumb to curiosity?

Could that magic

Be with me, always,

So I could see

All of the world

With that same wondrous awe?

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.

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