Moonbeams

A delicate moonbeam, dancing high, atop the star filled sky,
filters down to crimson brook, where once we use to fly.
Where night flight dancing filled the air, a bustling brook of fun,
where hearty revelry and feasting time, was had by everyone.

We would dance the night, upon the flopper trees, majestic looking frame,
fly the night airs bristling winds, hard task to conquer and tame.
Spiral into the silent brook, to ride on the mermaids backs,
to swim through reed and lilac, and chase through rocky cracks.

We would race the lively glow-worm, like the jockeys of long ago,
picnic among the josiper plants, swaying to and fro.
Till morning dewdrops, filled the air, glistening in the light,
for now was the time of the giants, dare not venture into their sight.

But alas those times have gone now, no more can we be seen,
for prying eyes, and modern times, have marred the forest sheen.
Strange creatures rumble, ripping roots, trees tumble in their wake,
upon them ride the human folk, their homes they want to make.

So now we live below now, a dark and sombre land,
lost our wings, a flightless life, dark future is at hand.
We wait until the time returns, when we can roam the starry sky,
to bask upon the moonbeams, where all the fairy folk can fly.