As I was sitting contemplating
of my next story to write,
I was watching the sky fading
from the day, sunset, to night,
And I fell upon the tall grass
let it mingle with my hair,
only to sort out my clothing
rearrange it with great care,
So the wind that blew above me
would not ruffle up my skirt,
and the shawl around my shoulders
practically engulfed my shirt,
As the sky had changed to yellow hue
I thought about that song,
that had listed all the yellow things
not too short and not too long,
So this writers perfect girl it seems
reminds him so of this,
and everything was so yellow
around some little miss,
The leaves reflecting orange
let me know that it was late,
but the warmth I was receiving
simply compelled me to stay,
A dog yowling in the distance
made me feel a sudden chill,
and the wind grew ever colder
but I lay there, quiet and still
The sky had clouded over
with hints of purples and of blues,
masquerading thier presences
with merging, striping hues,
I felt a tug from down my skirt
sitting up instantly,
and what was I to gaze upon
but a fox staring at me,
I looked right back
and thought 'Here goes! The staring match is on!'
He drooped his ears and cocked his head
I do believe he won,
He just wore such curiosity
upon his innocent face,
that I smiled and he came ever closer
moving with such grace,
I stroked his fur, admired his tail,
he was so beautiful!
There had to be a way he had
of creating such a pull,
He skipped around and so I found
he brought along his friends,
they danced, i sang,
and so i sang 'Oh, let this never end!'
But I did so, and all too soon
I found them leaving me-
one by one they were all gone,
but what a sight to see,
The night was black, I had no light
I cursed my sense of time,
I was a long way from my home
and it was such a climb!
I wrapped the shawl up tight to me,
and walked along the path,
Trees still littered from the flood
The ghastly aftermath,
The shadows creeped and swept and crawled
and danced around my feet,
I had another few miles yet
and so I gripped my teeth...
I was too tired; it was too late,
I rested under a tree,
the tree of oak so largely spoke
I recognised easily,
And as my eyelids drifted closed,
familiar padding feet,
looking across and wondering who
else I could possibly meet,
That little fox, so bold and brave
looked at me- and then the way
that I was surely headed for,
where I spent my day,
He hopped so happy along the track
that I could barely trip,
He led me home, back to my bed
without a yap or nip,
My dog, he growled? I taught him better,
and so he let the fox in,
I gave him milk for all his help
and some old meat for his din,
I went to bed, him on my pillow
dreaming of the sun,
and many foxes running around
I woke to find just one,
I looked to see his greying muzzle,
that he was growing old,
he sent a look my way that said
this story should be told,
I offered food but he declined
and walked into the wood,
I thought to follow but thought better
I'd just do what I should,
I wrote it down and shared the tale
amoungst all my friends,
they did not beleive my claims
but that will surely mend,
And years later I swear I see
him visit the meadow in spring,
and I think back to the beautiful time
When we would dance and sing.
