Sylph

Through dogwood trees in the twilight walking,
With firefly lanterns above, golden, floating.
Clad in beatitude and wisps of white,
Her cloud of flaxen hair shimmering bright.


She moves like the water, she moves like the air,
You swear you see her, and no one is there.
Like a sirens song she is entrancing,
Though her amber eyes are sadly shining.



Wearing jasmine perfume as she drifts by
With wildflowers in her arms, dead and dry.
Are they meant for a grave in faerie land,
Or a lost love who was promised her hand?


Beneath blushing blossoms of dogwood trees,
Through the aisles of trunks under canopies,
Before dawn she melts into the shadows
To a mystery where no man follows.


She is known as the spirit of crossed stars
And the beautiful earthbound evening star.
The firefly faerie, sweet vision of good,
Light in the night, the sylph of the dogwood.