Beneath the Fig in Sorrel's Wood
Beneath the Fig in Sorrel’s Wood
By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Elfin figures frolic free,
on languid days when nature speaks.
Their joy for life and mischief make,
the blooms of forest breath to take.
Explode with colours bold and bright,
entreat the Mother’s sheer delight.
Her blissful dream of pleasured life,
beneath the fig in pale moonlight.
In shadows soft the old sip tea,
from tiny cups of fashioned leaves.
While youngsters dance their lives of glee,
their feet with bells proclaim they’re free.
While flower chains adorn their hair,
their lives sustained by nature’s care.
Their beds of straw await their sleep,
where dreams request surrender deep.
Beneath the fig in Sorrel’s wood,
when fires dim and dancers should,
refrain from mirth till moonlight rise,
and Elfin joy fills forest eyes.
They rest in peaceful slumber night,
entwined together all warm and light.
While firefly’s fill night so big,
in Sorrel’s Wood beneath the fig.
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