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The faerie boy

The faerie boy was slender and his eyes had perfect sight.
On his face a look of wonder mixed with child-like delight.
He hugged himself so tightly as he sat upon his rock,
I could feel his faerie heartbeat like a ticking faerie clock.

But faerie clocks are not the same as clocks for humankind.
Time for faeries moves more like the tides within the mind;
Ins and outs and ups and downs and swells and peaks and crashes,
But, mostly, faerie time lives in a faerie shine of splashes.

So when I saw the faerie boy, so happy on his rock –
I’d never seen a faerie boy – my first response was shock.
But he knew all about me, like we’d known each other years.
He knew about my hopes and dreams. He knew about my fears.

I knew he told the truth and that he’d met an older me;
The more refined and wiser me; the me that I would be.
And on his face a look of such devotion and delight,
That quietly I knew that I would always be all right.

I was seven when the Faerie boy first came to be my friend.
He’s come back many times since then. He’s teaching me to blend.
And as human time progresses in a straight and narrow line,
I’m learning how to move in splashes full of faerie shine.

© Simon Welsh Poetry 24th February 2010





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