Sitting RoomLet s not forget the warmth of Fire
crackling merrily away.
How reluctant are we to leave its side.
Warm clothes and blankets.
Hot drinks and food.
All are best had fireside.
So let us light the flame.
Welcome in that glowing warmth.
That loves us all the same.
The Fairies HolidayHumming along the path they skip,
little feet pit a pat in the snow.
a musical procession though the trees.
The trees a'glow with fairie light,
illuminating the little dancing folk.
At dawn they will fade.
But for tonight they dance.
Dance, in the newly fallen snow.
The Land is DeadThe land is dead.
But it is life which remains.
Logs set ablaze.
Bowls filled with food.
Cups a'brim with wine.
Lips alive with laughter.
Though the land is cold,
our hearts are warm.
Though the land is still,
our bodies will dance.
Though the land is dead,
our souls are alive.
Fairie PathsSecret paths covered with snow
create a web of silver yarn.
Heart tied to heart.
Neighbour tied to neighbour.
Friend tied to friend.
Along the paths the fairies dance
spreading love in their footsteps.
Heart to heart.
Neighbour to neighbour.
Friend to friend.
Old Man WinterWhen gazing at a snowflake,
falling in the field,
listen softly to the wind.
"Love is all around." He sings.
His voice is the rustle of branches.
His drum, the silent falling of snow.
Look onward gently.
Across the frozen ground he dances.
His form, the swaying of trees.
His steps, the moonlight on their branches.
Chain LinkNow ice cold iron,
frozen in molten glory.
Once a sleeping stone.
A stone held in place,
the Earth encompasses her.
Beloved by the soil.
Dreams of Creation,
soon a delightful voyage.
But for now relaxed.
Never hold back her desire.
Stone turns to armor.
Frozen WorldFrozen beneath the ground lies the clock.
She ticks on quietly, keeping pace with the wind.
Her heart is a finely tunes engines made long ago.
On each hour she sings to the icy sky.
Her melody sounds against the ice,
trapped within a sleeping world.
On will she tick, till her gears rust,
on will she hum till her bells crack,
on will she dream till she floats away.
For the pond has need of a lullaby.