The Fairy Pearl had lost her step;
The path was overgrown.
The land she’d called her own for years
Had changed, was now unknown.
And hearts so dear had flown from here
And left her all alone.
Her body beat the dance of earth,
Her mind held tight to thought.
She dressed and combed her whitened hair,
From habit not forgot.
Her pale, fair skin grew loose and thin,
Her wit and ways did not.
In dreams she saw the morning dawn
And grew impatient then.
She could not charm the time away,
So long here had she been.
And so did she, so carefully,
Recount her past again.
She waited for the day to set,
The dusk to close her eyes,
The moon to bear her tattered threads
To unseen, distant skies.
For night brings day that souls await
With ageless, longing eyes.
With wings unfurled like birds of flight,
She took her last adieu.
Her eyes of blue, so quick and bright,
They lost their mortal hue.
With eyes she sees—not eyes like these—
Her God and friends anew.
For my grandmother, Margaret. (Her name means “Pearl.”)