Where the Faerie Fell

In a wood where heather grows high and wide,
And the moon on the bracken makes silver tide,
A mortal walked where none dare stray—
And met a maid from the Aos Sí that day.

Her hair was woven of alder bark,
And her eyes held stars in mirrored dark,
She sang him songs but the old trees knew,
And danced in mist with her feet like dew.

Though men had warned of the faerie spell,
Of hearts bewitched and broken well,
He took her hand with mortal grace—
And kissed the joy in her wildling face.

They walked ‘neath sun and slept by stream,
And love grew real from woven dream.
But human towns with flint-hard eyes
Scorned this girl of the twilight skies.

The baker frowned. The preacher sneered.
The blacksmith’s wife made signs and jeered.
Her laughter dimmed like muted lyre—
Yet still they loved, with burning fire.

So the two of love, outcast and brave,
Fled to the realm the cloud peaks gave.
They built a home where the warm wind blew
Where snowflakes sang and eagles flew.

They lived timeless in peace and song,
Till the world spun wild, and days grew long.
On the thirteenth morn of August skies,
The stars all fell ‘mongst faerie cries.

She clutched his chest, her breath grown thin,
The dawn like ash upon her skin.
“No spell can save, but do not grieve,
Take my last breath just as I leave.”

He pressed her lips as spirit slipped—
And drew her soul with final kiss.
She passed as stars in morning fade,
And left no trace but woven braid.

Down from the mount with stone-struck tread,
He walked alone, his heart like lead.
Yet sorrow could not dull his flame,
Bearing her love, not human’s shame.

He cursed not fate, nor death, nor friend,
But those who mock and won’t defend.
He whispered, “All I lost was lies—
She was all truth beneath our skies.”

And still he climbs each August year,
To kiss the wind and feel her near,
Where love once danced through moor and fen,
Where faerie lass loved mortal man.