She sits in a meadow of white
In a gossamer white gown
Holding out her pale hand
And watching the pixie dust
Float off in the wind
As still as a statue
As stately as a queen
She is the most beautiful
Sight I have seen
Pixie dust glows and sparkles
In her outstretched hand
Reflecting the sunlight
Like the pure snowbells
She blooms with salubriousness
A testament of innocence
Men kneel before her grace
She’s an empress
Of all that she sees
About the Creator
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More stories from Mother Combs and writers in Poets and other communities.
The First Hairline Cracks
The first cracks never look like cracks. They don’t arrive with drama or warning. They don’t announce themselves as danger. They hide inside the very things that feel like power — speed, clarity, momentum, capability. That’s why they’re so easy to miss. That’s why they’re so dangerous.
By Elisa Wontorcik3 days ago in Poets
Comments (6)
Wow this poem is great! Plus, you got me to learn a new word: salubriousness.
Beautiful.
"Your Grace...," kneeling subjectively.
Whoaaa, you painted such a beautiful picture with your words! I loved it so much!
Ah, the snowdrop fairy, a great conjuring of these flowers.
Loved this 🧚♀️💓