Within a valley of frosted field,
where oak did twist beneath West wind,
a sea of grass did hide a prize
of fragmented Faerie Kingdoms.
A child made stumble fell and span
and in a heap did land, a wreck.
And one whom should have held her peace
not risen from that vaulted door
did so; she broke the pact, and would again.
The child who cried and spouted tears
as though in pain of anguish deep
did silence at the shimmering girl;
the one who saved her soul that day.
The mystic one made solace sweet
and swept the child away.
But o’er brow beyond clashing slopes
a brother saw his sister’s saviour.
He witnessed well the Faerie girl
with silvered wing and snowflake breath,
but chose that day to keep his peace.
N’er has a boy kept secret locked,
nor stoney silence not forgot,
as this poor boy of parent’s ill,
who bid his sister fare-thee-well,
knowing all along that given choice
of Faerie Kingdoms or earthly world
there was no competition true.
For all would wish for Oberon
and elegant Titania’s grace
if given even but a breath of hope
of finding so emerald lands.
Goodbye dear sister, he did say.
I wish you well, my only friend.
Perhaps, when on my deathly bed, I
do sit and cogitate this life,
then you’ll return to guide me home.
Of that I wish into this gorge.
My words will sit and wait through time
and memory’s breath or wind or mist
shall carry you your brother’s passing
and you will fetch me, aid me, take me
through said immortal door.
There, I’ll be rested in the lands
of sparkling departures.
I pray it. Hope it. Believe it, dear Rose.
Your brother, forever.