I'm The Kind of Faery

 I'm the kind of faery

That turns your milk sour

And steals your bread

And tangles your hair while you lie asleep at night

I coax the weeds to grow in your garden

I like them more than your neat and controlled

Rows of flowers and vegetables

I don't like things that have an order

And a purpose

I peel the paint

And crack the plaster in your walls

To let the damp in

I like untidiness

Wildness

Disorder

When the shelf crashes down in the night

And the plates all crack

That's me

When you only have odd socks

I've taken the other halves of every pair

I'm probably wearing them

Dancing in the dewdrops somewhere

One spotted sock

One striped

But what if you let go

Of this obsessive need for order?

Use the mismatched crockery

Come dance in the dew in your mismatched socks

Let the damp in 

And a rich carpet of moss grow on your roof

And maybe flowers and vines

Will grow out of the floor

Making your own jungle garden

And you'll dance

Dance

A wild dance

In the garden of your own creation

In the freedom of your oddness

(c)opyright Laura Morrigan, 2011- 2021