As I sat down
upon the straw.
A child drew near.
T’was not that tall.

Eyes that were
an Azure Blue
long straight hair
of golden hue.

Though she appeared
young as a song.
The eyes said wisdom
of life quite long.

She whispered softly
In my ear
“What is this faire
that you hold dear?”

What do I say?
It means so much.
The words I want,
I can not touch.

Some say family
but thats not right
been used so much
that now it’s trite.

“Faire to me,
or so it seems.
Is the ability
To touch our dreams”

She smiled at me
then walked away
and as she left
I heard her say.

“Men dream to be heros,
Both old and new.
But heros are just dreamers
who make their dreams come true.”

“All enter into this life
without a master plan
but the purity of the Dream
is the measure of the man.”

Then as I pondered
with all my might
the child, she faded
from my sight.