a poem of love & faerie's

It was an ordinarily hazy summers morn, when i opened this particular e-mail
sent to me, whilst i sat at work, from my dear Mr O, written by him, just for me.

As i read those words written on the page, my heart filled to bursting,

so beautiful, so unexpected, so very precious. . . should i share it with you

i think i must - they are too beautiful to keep hidden  . . .

" The shade over the forest was perfect,
 hazy hues of green swooping and gently swaying to nature's music over my head,
 a velvety canopy back-lit by the mid-summer sun,
 sparks of warm light randomly piercing the forest floor,
 the heady aroma of soft springy moss still sparkling with fresh dew.

i imagine resting with her up there;
 sharing wonderful tales of the elves, pixies and faeries
she knew; all of them her friends.
 i just knew that she would easily convince me of their existence
as we lay together, her sweet lips pressed to my ear,
uttering bewilderingly beautiful descriptions of 'the little ones',
 whispering lest they should hear! all the sketches,
the books and cards, the magical words, the gnarly trees -
 all of it so real as she lovingly and patiently
painted the canvas of my imagination...........

...... then, as she delicately sketched
a clutch of tiny mushrooms and wild flowers, i saw it!
 my heart jumped but i couldn't speak!
 the pointy ears were barely visible beneath the jaunty little blue hat,
 jet-black wispy hair billowing as the bejewelled dragonfly
 effortlessly powered the curly maple leaf down the crystal brook.......
 he scrabbled in the air, trying to catch his hat
as the taxi rounded the bend but it was too late!
he disappeared in a spraying silvery mist
leaving the tiny hat bobbing at the brook's edge.
 would he come back for it, or was he late for supper?

the cool slender hand, instantly familiar as it slides into mine;
the beautiful green eyes and happiest smile.
it is indeed the most enchanting forest, the perfect day,
my beautiful Ruthie lying next to me.........."
*   *   * 

Well, can you see why i was so bowled over?

words cannot express how much this means to me

my dear Mr O, my Musician, my poet . . . thank you x x