My son looked to be fairly odd to me,
With eyes far too bright.
His eyes seemed sunken and his skin, shrunken.
Not a pretty sight.
He must have been from where the Faeries come;
Strange as a wildling.
Into the oven, to call its coven,
I placed the Changeling.
That signaled the Fae who whisked it away,
And returned my son.
Observe well, Faefolk, lest you smell the smoke
From a Fae someone...
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Faeries Born
PoetryA few poems about Faeries, and their lore. When are Faeries born? What do they do when we don't see them? What happens in the dunes? What is their darker side like? Please understand that while I have the "completed" box checked off, I will still p...
