The Fairy Ring

Margaret E. Johnson

Beneath the pussy-willow tree,
I found a fairy ring.
A ring of tiny toadstools,
Where fairies dance and sing.

I've heard that on a moonlit night,
Or on a sunny day,
The fairies come to dance and sing,
And make up games to play.

So if you find a fairy ring,
While playing out of doors,
Be very careful where you step,
For magic can be yours.

Now if you catch a Leprechaun,
And if you hold him tight,
He'll buy his freedom with a wish,
So wish with all your might.

And then you let him go again
To wend his merry way.
Be sure to watch for fairy rings
When you go out to play.


Author Bio

Margaret E. Johnson wrote poetry all her life. But she didn't just decide she would write one. They just came to her, popped into her head and she would sit down and write the poem by hand (no typewriter) and then stuff it into the drawer with all her others.

At one time her family counted one hundred fifty-seven poems, and that was back in 1968. Now, they have only seventeen. Ms. Johnson died of Alzheimers.

During the early stages, while she was still ambulatory and functioning most of the time, her husband found her sitting on the floor in the guest room with scraps of paper strewn all around her. She was tearing up her poems. He rescued the seventeen still in existence.


Twilight Times ezine is proud to present the timeless work of a very fine poet.




"The Fairy Ring" Copyright © 1999 Lorraine Stephens. All rights reserved. Published by permission.
This page last updated 4-17-99.

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