A Lepera’con

 

“For drink,” quipped an elfish man, “A story of an emerald land.
There be a tale of a moon lit night where I bestowed quite a sight.
Stirred restless from stolen dreams drifted music from a place unseen.
All around twas a heat from a chorus of sounds and rhythmic beat.
Not covered in dress I went as born out before the early morn.
Where those of only nature dwell far from the place I know so well.
Closer I came the more it grew my soul possessed its will withdrew.
Well hid behind a fallen tree beheld a soul-fleshed fantasy.
She flowed graceful in barefoot step her mane wild and freely swung unkempt.
A mist of smoke made up her gown caressing as she spun around.
Soft parted lips sang to her dance I gazed upon in longing trance.
Into the night the music played and with it softly her body swayed.
Through the woods stabbed golden rays beacons of the dawning day.
Vanishing from her stage of moss my heart wept at the sudden loss.
Was it fairy, nymph or woodland elf? “Return,” I begged to me self.
To lad and lass I say to you my every word I tell be true.
Purchase another mug of beer and a pot of gold ye next will hear.”