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

Leaves behind

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.