Enshrouded by the night's sweet song,
the faeries start their dance;
encompassed only by moonlight and dew,
the magic sways the melody.
Wings beat rhythmically in star-strewn sky,
beauty as pure as the beginning of time,
they circle the clouds with fingers twined,
a frantic, yet calming, sot of trance.
Hues of green, pale yellow, and red
flood the dark with light;
a city arises from the mist;
the faerie kingdom emerges.
Song burst forth from faerie lips
to bless the castle in the sky;
a magic burned into memories
by first faeries' flight.
Faeries of the night are gone,
yet we remember them still,
for magic was born in the black before sunrise,
a gift that can never be forgotten.
