These are the songs that came from my head, <br />They came out when I came from bed, <br />A fairy told me a story or two in my dream, <br />It had all shorts of scenes but some where rather gleam; <br />Of mountains and forests and lonesome skies, <br />Of all shorts of opportunities and failures and tries, <br />That came as they wend like others go by, <br />But don't ask any questions, yes don't ask me why. <br />In the woods of the darkest forest I dwell, <br />Because a fairy put on me an unknown spell, <br />And no one can resolve that old some riddle, <br />Unless he could play the truest of fiddle; <br />These are the songs that came from my head, <br />But no one can hear them or where they will led, <br />Because here I am now wandering just around, <br />Trying to find a way out but I am all spellbound. <br />Butterflies and insects of all other shorts, <br />Are meeting with fairies and judges of higher courts; <br />They want me to be rescued and see me safely home, <br />Before night's again here with its supernatural gloam.<br /><br />Peter S. Quinn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/these-are-the-songs-that-came-from-my-head/
