I hear the gentle whisper
of her wings as she flies near
I see the wonderous colors
She paints upon the earth so dear
But alas I see a tear that
Falls from her eye, by why?
So busy, so many of us miss the
Little things the fair creature
A gentle whisper, wonderous colors
Even a tear.
Note: This isn't mine, but my mother's. She wrote it about a picture I made of a fairy painter, and the next picture is of the fairy in a jar locked up.