La fée et l'enfant ( The Fairy And The Child)

The Fairy And The Child

(Pour ma chérie, afin qu'il puisse bien dormir)

Glittering crystal wings, gold smile adorned,

With a child's first laugh, A fairy 's born;

Giving hope, holding him by his hands,

Takes to a beautiful magical land.

Little child there he sees, his wee heart desire,

Soothing, like a warm comforting fire;

Away gone all worries and the pain,

That fear not he may, ever in vain.

The fairy carries him to her wonderful unknown realms,

Into that mystical land of hopes and of golden dreams;

To let you feel, what you must deem,

Without trouble, or fear.... forever as it may seem.

Yet a fairy each time ceases to live,

When you say, "In fairies I don't believe"

What else could she do, the fairy so poor,

'came a stranger, knocking at the child's door;

With a cry of agony she had to leave,

For the child, in fairies, did not believe.

All hopes withered away with the little fairy dead,

And the child cried, lowering his slumbered head;

Happy the child might have been, hopes always,

with the fairy no more, like dark nights became his vivid days.

To believe in her, is all that she asks,

To hope and to pray, isn't after all a mighty task;

But what could she do, the fairy so poor....

Became a stranger, Knocking at your door.

                                                    G.K

                                                  17-04-2013

My Meandering Riverie

My Meandering Riverie

Had I that passion of love, muted and genuine,

Maketh me troubled, that willy-nilly mind o' mine;

I lack the courage to approach that by the by,

Thee now, and such in the course of time, stand by.

Yet, down the depth of my faith, my trouble cries,

An eternal longing  for being tendered, there it lies;

And the fleeting time is now, not at ease,

For the years roll, degrees by degrees.

The lingering sweet scent of the spring of Keats',

That compassionate feelings, that wonderous feats,

From the spring to the summer the reverie arrives at,

Lord God, My consolation thou art, be my guide on that.

Let me sail my lonesome ship, alone and anon,

Leaving no footprints, in the sea of remorse, unknown,

With thee my lord, I sail with thy guide.

                                                                                                                                G.K