The Fairy Door

There is a door in the field behind my house

The little girl down the street wanders over sometimes

Her hair is a mess

ice cream streaks run down her face,

mixed with dirt,

flecked with glitter

Her bright colored dresses wave like a flag

on the breeze

or even on the still days when she runs like her cares don't weigh her down

the years don't yet weigh her down.

She boldly stands before the door every day

it is her altar

it is her portal

she always walks through the door

and through it she enters a world that is for her eyes only

where she is the princess, knight, fairy, soldier,

keeper, seeker, destroyer, creator, dreamer

of her own world.

Every time she steps through the fairy door

her magic allows others to see through the frame

a brief return to those days

where our own troubles didn't hold us back

and the breeze carried our clothes with the

slightness of wings.