an urban nightmare
When dainty feet slide softly down the stairs,
and dust is blown by tiny wings bestirred,
when moonlight shines on bright gossamer hair,
they with the fated witched hour emerge.
The faeries dance in circles of cement,
weaving the silver threads in tapestry
that tells grim tales beneath the cold crescent
and lures innocents into travesty.
Their savage games are played beneath the bridges,
their court held in the tow’ring piles of stone.
They hide their cruelty behind the shadowed ridges,
all playing in the endless maze of bones.
The realm of fae lies deep in shadow wrapped.
Beware, oh traveler, lest ye there be trapped.
G.B // the faeries never left; they evolved