In the Sidhe

We fiercely dance in Dreams,
toe-taps, curtsies, and bows,
Mab, I, the Fever Scream
howling, furious, Proud.

Candlelights burn brightly
as we Spin. We will traipse
careful… delicately…
lest we exhaust, collapse.

Good Mother Mab, grant rest,
a mere moment to breathe!
Our Child, borne by this Dance,
rests with Me, in the Sidhe.

© CGT, 2017-2018.

I have a deep fascination with the mythological relationship between the Fey and Mankind.

Talk to me.