Poem; Make Believe.

She was blonde, petite,
With big blue eyes,
That looked across at me,
And said, "Do you believe
In fairies?"
"Yes, years ago when I
Was a little girl, my sister
Joyce told me stories
About them in bed at night,
To my delight."
She sighs, "I have looked
Everywhere for them you
See in the flowers, and the trees,
But I can't find any."
"That's because they are so
Tiny," I say, "And never come
Out in the day. By night they
Come to the fairy dells'
And dance by the light of the
Moon, and very soon the Fairy
Queen glides down in her
Golden coach, pulled by six
White horses, with harnesses.
Of gold. And she sprinkles
Her magic wand in the air
There is music and light,
But not every night."
"But how do you know they
Are really there?"
 I answer,
Because my sister said,
And I believe it to be true,
Don't you?"