The wood

The wood

“there is something in this wood”, he told me.
“something full of baby magic.”
Back then, I didn’t believe him really
for who’d have thought this wood would have it?
That this wood would have evergreen
everlasting baby magic?

Back then, I was a small child you see,
The exact age, I can’t remember,
and in those fields of ripe, lush evergreen
I’d spend my long Septembers,
Wondering if anyone could see
the summer’s dying embers.

It was back when Innocence was free
that I met fairies, and fawns,
when none could sever me from dreams,
that I believed in nymphs of dawn
that came in the morning to streak the sky
With the gold rays they would draw.

the stag would come and play with me, and let
me ride his back, Oh, how I’d smile
back then, back then, how could I forget?
the way he’d lead me for a while
through the enchanted forest
of which I am now exiled.

Oh elves, I really wish you’d come to me
again, like when I was younger.
When I’d drink the honey’s nectar, and cease
my rumbling childish hunger
If I ask aloud, would the fairies come
and make me once more, younger?