How I wish I had a shady tree, with lichen growing on.
A moist and loamy soil, with scatterings of sun.
How I wish there was a woodland, outside of my backdoor.
Inside I’d find these twining vines, and certainly some fairy lore.
So many tiny skirts, shimmering with dew.
I’d follow a path, to look upon this blue.
A wisp of fleeting hue.