Fairies in the arbor.
Fairies in the tree.
Fairies in the hanging vines
gleeful as can be.

Fairies in the fountain
diving from the sill.
Fairies running atop the fence
playing Queen of the Hill.

Shouts and laughter filled the air
like the babbling of a brook,
wings glittering in the morning sun
like a scene from an old picture book.

When they saw me quietly watching,
they all danced round the tree
and said to wish you "Happy Birthday"
(they couldn't believe you're 33).

They said they miss your poetry
and you're prose about them too.
They hope you still believe in them....
because they certainly believe in You!