The Mermaid. 

A poem.

The fairies play on the beach at night,

I see them dance in the misty light;

They weave their garlands of seaweed strands,

With ploughs of silver as they plough the sands,

In dimpled furrows and tiny dells

For a fairy harvest of coloured shells.


I may not join them. I sit on the rocks

Combing my beautiful moon-gold locks,

 spreading them out on the breast of the tide


In a dappled pathway shimmering wide,

Where all the fairies that ever there be

Might come a-dancing over to me.

Rose Fyleman


September 20, 2021 — Rose Lawson