Becoming Fairies

Waking up
In a room of white,
We don our wings
Before taking flight.

Put on a pink dress,
Or maybe a blue,
Weave flowers through our hair
And slip on our shoes.

Grabbing wands from the closet
And hopping downstairs,
Say goodmorning to Lily,
Then flit away without cares.

As we prance through the kitchen
Grandma sets down some plates,
We sip our tea quickly,
And down a few grapes.

Through the glass door
Our synthetic wings take us,
We bound down the path
That grandma has made us.

To the fish pond,
Around baby tears,
We dance through the fairy garden;
A memory so dear.