SECRETS IN THE WOODPILE

                   

SECRETS IN THE WOODPILE

 Down by the woodpile

 Where we really ought not go

 Lived tiny little mice

 Whose fur was white as snow

 The mice they liked to squeak a lot

 As all mice like to do

 But really they were talking

 In words not known to me or you.

 They were chatting all about the ball

 For they did love to go

 They pulled the tiny carriages

 For fairies and elves, you know.

 Oh, how splendid in their uniforms

 Of silk, of shimmering gold

 It made even the shyest mice

 Become quite a bit more bold!

                                                                                                                                                   

 Soon the night did happen

 The moonlight shimmered so

 A beautiful garden of flowers

 Was lit with a silvery glow.

 Fairies came from everywhere

 And danced the whole night long

 If you listened very carefully 

 You'd hear a sweet and tinkling song.                                                                     

 The morning came too quickly

 And all was cleared away

 No sign of the frivolities

 Was left in the new born day

 But if you went by the woodpile

 Where you really ought not go

 You'd see tiny white mice sleeping

 Dreaming of places yet to go.

 

  Crissouli© May 2007