A Portrait of the Queen of Faeries

One by one they come,

To dance for their beloved Queen!

In an ethereal forest 

Shared whispers of children's dreams.

A moment she pauses

As little Grace dances on her gown,

Telling of the wonder....

(As Treemen hold oaken bow)

That the faeries have not been forgotten,

They have not been left behind!

For within the childrens hearts

Is the magic of light of the brightest kind.

The queens lips part,

Eye's glimmering, filled with soul.

Magic dances from her palm,

Her magic embracing young and old.

Her Gentle grace,

Beloved by the faery race.