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Folklore Dreams

By J Ann Crowder

In my dreams a sylph sang whilst silver rain collided and leapt off stone to marine beds, dancing as pirouettes—splashing ballerinas

Thus, such a sylph's purging delight beckoned me to earth’s glassy, vermilion horizon

There, a water nymph glistened as each scale of her gilded tail shimmered a corydalis green, like an impenetrable dragon wing’s magic

Near this aquamarine diamond of sea, wedgwood forests awoke where sage walls of mountains protected fairy fey fortresses filled with flitting sprites nestled amongst crimson berries and pines dressed in mistletoe greys

There, a centaur galloped swiftly, relishing in a wind's secret whisperings

I gingerly plucked seashells whilst pink pixies flickered in distances like fireflies at midnight's hearth or a spin of constellations upon frozen, timeless space

In my dreams, such images breathed a mystified folklore, living as those timeless and frozen oceans of constellations above

Fantasy. Written May 2nd, 2017.

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