Awaking from reality
I visited the faerie fair
on last midsummers day
and browsed amongst the trinkets there
in careless jumbles lay
from blood of earth
in labelled jars
to the totalled worth
of a warrior’s scars
the memories of a changeling child
a powder to make tempers mild
a vial of tears shed by the moon
and gold to make a miser swoon
and skins of trolls as stylish rugs
and leaf-sown gloves, so thin yet snug
I waltzed between the hordes of fey
all dressed in streaming ribbons gay
I critically surveyed their wares
as imps upon this mortal stared
BUT
accept not gifts from goblin men
refuse to hear the songs which then
shall spill from lips whilst whispered lies
weave close enchantments for thy eyes
breathe not in their heavy musk
and hasten home before the dusk
for if a trade you try to start
the price is simple: mind or heart?