Beneath the hill, after my sister

worked her spell and led me down,

I drank the dew-sweet wine of

fairyland from goblets blown

of captured stars.

 

I made small talk with princes,

joined in shyly when the toasts

went round, and danced a little,

almost boldly, in the gentle arms

of one fae knight.

 

I thought I'd found my calling,

found a place within this

moonlit realm, this land of

cobweb dust and shadows,

where even I might shine.

 

But she danced too, my sister,

younger, fairer far than me,

and cast her waterfall-clear laugh

about the room, to echo off the silver

walls into men's minds.

 

And later, in the garden where

the lovers stole to speak and kiss,

even my suiter sought her out,

her golden laughter even more

entrancing here, beneath the moon.