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Answer True

My lady asks
Have any fairy wings?
My lady asks
For the most strangest of things
How is your breathing?
Have you any pain?
My lady makes such inquiries
Again and again and again
My lady walks
Toward sunrises and sunsets
My lady talks
About lost causes and yesterday’s sure bets
Have you made your plans?
Have you made your peace with goodbye?
My lady bravely faces a future
When it will be her turn to let herself cry
My lady asks
Have you any fairy wings?
My lady asks
For the most wondrous of things
How are you?
How are things going?
My lady shares her heart
With a love that’s flowing and flowing and flowing

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December Trees

Twas a fetching kind’o December wind;
Blew poor Sally Gossamer Wingstep so very far;
Out of the copse across lands of the fairiekynd,
Past The Queen’s Tree and Jonathan’s guardian webstar.

Twas over by Fablehaven where the three girls dwelt,
Playing with the new puppy as music wafted from the frosted windows.
Such a nice place with goats and cats and one lone fox: Redpelt—
Mind, stay out of his way, hast no sense of humor, goodness knows!

But what a curious thing was occurring inside that house!
My fairy dust, what are they doing? Caressing a fir tree?
With boxes of shiny bulbs, and spikes, and stringy tinsel;
All the while singing strange songs were those sisters three.

Sally flew in the barely open mail slot to listen:
“Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way,”
The three girls warbled at full joyous throat.
Sally liked the little ditty, but what’s a “sleigh?”

Sally exited through the mail slot and headed on home,
Grateful for the December trees and the Queen’s leave to roam.

Pas De Deux

Stepping out onto the bare cliff face
The windswept girl looked askance:
Been a while since Cajun land
And firing up that two-step dance.
The poet reached out his one good hand,
But missy just followed the sun—
Watched it all the way to the evenset;
He wondered if all was over and done.
Chances are and chances’ll be
Swirling all about with the wind;
While Cajun girl browns look away
From the boy whose hazels seem kind.