Painting The Fairies

A poem about observing and painting fairies at play

Painting the Fairies

The fairies come during the day
And I watch them as they play
In my garden; flowers bright
Shimmer in the pale sunlight
Underneath the spreading trees
Where they flutter in the breeze.
Caught in pastels; pink and green
Floating in a golden dream
Until I hear the luncheon bell,
And rise to bid them ‘fare thee well…’

The fairies come during the night
And I watch them in their flight
Playing tag amongst the stars;
Tapping on the window glass
And darting off with merry shouts
To taunt the alley cats about.
Every twinkle caught in oils
Against a canvas dark; I toil
In midnight blue and purples deep
Until it’s time for me to sleep. 

The fairies come at twilight fall,
My favourite fairy time of all.
Shimmering against the dusk,
Dropping golden fairy dust
As they flit between the trees
In conversation with the bees.
Soft in watercolour sheen
Splashes bright on grey and green
Until they finish in their play
And come to steal my soul away.