Shye Flight

Shye’s a girl who will not sleep.
Her hair is brushed, her teeth are clean,
And now to bed she’s bound, yet round
Her restless legs and feet careen,
Kicking off the sheets unseen.

She holds her father’s hand as he
Lifts up his voice, both low and deep.
He sings of fairies taking flight
Above the clouds, through shadows steep,
O’er cobbled stones and mossy peat.

A murmur cold drifts through the bed,
And up she lifts her drowsy head.
Below, her house fades into mist
She sails where frozen stars are spread,
Tonight, she rides the winds instead.

Violet fades to swirling dark,
Her dress spins glow with every arc.
She skips along the argentine threads
Of stars, then swoops to touch the spark
Of ocean waves in rippled marks.

Then up she climbs to shake the hands
Of clouds above the quiet lands.
The night wind stings, so swift she flies
Through dunes of gold and silken sands,
To seek a place where warmth still stands.

Then from the black, a flickering glow
A cave where live-coals crack and flow.
She rests inside from night-long flight,
And in the combustion’s unguarded throw,
She sees her father’s face below.

Held again in steady arms,
Safe inside, away from storms.
Outside, the stars still call her near,
But waves nor winds nor skylit charms
Could pull her from her father’s arms.