The Land of Eternal Youth

Twinkling like pixie dust, the sun’s rays cascade down.
Faerie lights glitter between the shadowed branches
In a far of land that only a tiny hand can touch.
The big ones cannot reach that distant world.
The fantasy’s of imagination live, breathe,
And one day fall.
Tumbling, tumbling, and finally frozen,
As if they had seen Medusa.
Gone are the days,

Giggling on the beach like little tanned sand monsters.
A knight marches up a driftwood bridge,
And elegant seashells stand guard.
Suddenly, the ground shakes
A joy filled neigh is heard
A snowy horse materializes from the snow bank.
Shattering crystals of sugarplum snow,
Down bends the kingly horse.
And upon the majestic back a little one clambers.
Running with the wind, the horse is the howling winter wind.
Wait, perhaps the wind is neighing.
A call shatters the dream
Winter wonderland becomes sweet smelling,
Of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves
And evergreen, green for evermore

The hourglass turns
‘Round and ‘round
And the land of the Sídhe fades.
The driftwood bridge floats alone,
Neither a castle nor moat is near.
Winter wonderland exists not.
Even the evergreen, green for evermore,
Is no more.

Time is running out,
And the days are numbered.
The fantasy’s of imagination return,
Like old broken toys tossed into a chest.
Gently, the dust is blown off.
A smile reappears on the face whose end is near.
What once was lost had now been found.
The myth became legend and the legend became a tale.
The tale became the truth
And with that final revelation,
All passed, contented into the land of Tír na nÓg