The Young Angel

A young angel came to me today
And asked me if fairies are to stay?
I said what do you mean little one?
She said her parents could see none.
I told her all things magical and real,
Stop being true when you no longer feel.
She asked me with a little voice of purity,
“Does the moon speak?
Do the tree’s wave hello?
Do the stars sparkle on show,
Because adults have told me no?”
I told her in gentleness and care,
The heart speaks on the midnight air,
But those that listen are few and rare.
Her wonder-filled eyes began to glow,
And she whispered,
“I know, I know”

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