A Handful of Night

The meadow is young and virile,
The sky has an elegant pulchritude,
The faint smell of pollen dances in the wind,
Pines in the distance sing their choir.

The night is alight with winking stars,
The night is aflame with passion and beauty;
A dance of elves and fairies, a fantasy of its own,
While the crescent moon watches on.

The mystery is begging to be explored,
The joyous beginnings, the happy endings,
Yet sleep beguiles the waking,
And I fall under its enchantments.

When I wake, with the sun in my eyes,
The meadow is bland, the sky is uninspiring,
The fairies have vanished, the woods are like any other,

And with a heavy heart, I turn home,
Wishing I had could turn back time and wander,
Wishing I could dance with the fairies and the elves,
Wishing the night would go on forever,
And I would never grow up,

Wishing I had a handful of night.

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