A little piece of paradise
Was mine for just a while;
I recognized the spirits there,
And they made me smile.
They dwelt inside the olive trees;
They frolicked in the pond—
They leapt along the worn brick paths,
At dusk I heard their song,
As crickets chirped they filled the night,
With charming sprightly airs,
With rush of leaves up in the trees,
They danced with pixie flairs.
We built them fairy houses,
Hung wind chimes in the boughs;
We made a secret garden,
For them to while their hours.
In return, they blessed the fruit
That blossomed on the trees,
And never was a place so loved
As it was by all of these.
The house was haunted, this I know,
By former human-dwellers,
By friendly ghosts who graced the rooms
And cast enchanting spells.
I’ve sheltered warm and safe beneath
The wings of fairy powers,
But now I’ve found my lease is lost;
I’m counting down the hours.
I’d take them with me, if I could
But earth has locked them fast;
I sense the doom that lurks beyond
And know they’d never last.
But for now, oh magic sprites,
Cast on me your fairy dust,
But do not look at me that way
Or ask what comes of us.
–Sandra Lee Smith, October, 2008