Author: Archia PM
"People used to sit, and read poetry in flickering candlelight." There is a magic about it, one that perhaps you may find.Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry/Fantasy - Words: 406 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 07-24-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3044522
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People used to sit, and read poetry in flickering candlelight. In the half-shadows their faces would gleam, as prose emerged from the lips of one.
Twas a mystic day when ye asked to stay
As candles grew thin, eyes would close, taken to the world of the mind's imagination.
Fairies danced as pixies swayed
Slowly, with words mesmerising the very soul of a person's thought, they would no longer remember the circle of candlelight, or the people surrounding them.
Amongst the willows played the doves
Music would lilt to the ear, a soft melody that entranced anyone who dared escape.
Harps of magic and of love
Then, as the mind grew closer, and the body leaned that little further, words could be heard.
A sprite of laughter draws ye near
Finally, as the eyes had gone inside themselves, and the mind had left it's safety, sight was revealed.
A ring of prancers ye finds here
At last there, they are taken by the words, taken by nothing they have left. In their sight is all that they imagined.
Come dance with us they beckon so
Now they would follow, drawing closer to souls of their mind as they are lost amongst the imagination.
Take our hands and let us go
Dance, dance they do. Twirling, flying, their mind's reaching their souls, touching further than their imagination.
Off somewhere, in the place they just left, the candles falter, dousing as their sticks die old. But in sight there is never-ending light, laughter as their mind's flit round.
The night's end comes ye stay is done
As time grows in this world that never ages, souls begin to falter, as minds try to grasp what they see.
Come back soon we'll have more fun
Slowly, as further and further they grow, the music becomes softer.
A whisper on the breeze ye find
Then the mind returns to its place, eyes returning to their lids.
Merry a dance was in your mind
Eyes would flatter, sight opens. Half-dead candles cast shadows around the murmured figures. The reader had stopped, their voice gone as silence descends upon the listeners. Each would wish to recall their mind just moments before, to once again dance with the magic.
Tomorrow they would all return, fresh candles lit, as another poem is placed in the lap of one.
On a sun-baked hilltop ye
Will dance a dance so merrily
And indeed they all did.