MY APPLE TREE.

There were fairies about in my garden last night.
I didn’t see them, of course, but I’m sure that I’m right,
‘cos down at the far end out on the lawn,
where my apple tree, planted the day I was born,
now has all around it a beautiful ring
that wasn’t there yesterday… not in the evening.

They don’t come to dance round my tree every night.
Oh no! just when the moon’s all shiny and bright.
Then the fairies and elves and all of their friends
meet down by the pool where the crooked path ends,
and before dancing tell each other the news
about who has said what, and been where, and with whom.

They always wait until the sky is quite clear.
It’s very important the clouds disappear
then the moonbeams won’t break
as they bounce off the leaves and into the lake
and then, having danced on it’s rippling face,
send shafts of light into every dark place.

The dancing begins when the fairies join hands
and the King gives permission for one of his bands
to start playing one of his favourite dances.
That’s the one where the sprite shouts out as he passes.
Long live the King! and Long live the Queen!
The most magical couple the world’s never seen.

I’d love to join in but don’t s’pose I could
for the fairies are shy and their Queen never would
allow such a thing. Not even for me.
No! Not even though it’s my apple tree.

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