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memory has it
you, the faerie
the one i believe
the part of the play
there i find you, the climax
and with it, the lump in my throaght

clapping till the music no longer plays

memory has it
you, on your throne
and i, at your side
part of this picture, motion
the one that is only peripheral
not paying Pan any attention

i do believe in faeries

i would catch you a wing or two
i would snatch that star for you
tell you what you want to hear
make you laugh more than out loud
some kind of beautiful
several kinds of beauty
somewhat unworthy
most certainly not