The Faeries that play

On the Border of the Wood

See my searching eyes

Through the glass of my Window

I wish they would stay

If they only Could

Outside the wind sighs

The ground covers with Snow

Through the forest I see

That their play does not Stop

That they play in between

The cold and the Hot

Through the ground and the tree

Over bottom and Top

Though they're kind and they're mean

They can't always be good, nor can't they Not

A blanket of white

Lays over the Ground

And a mixture of brown, white and gray

In the forest that I See

This urge I cannot fight

This magnificent Sound

Is a song I must play

That the Faeries can Be