The first of the sunrays are cast on my home of pine needles
as I wake to the sounds of the wood from my dandelion bed
and I gaze through my small cobweb curtains, down through the arches
that are made from the wings of the bees & the moths that are dead
Fairytale children are dancing like jewels in the morning
caterpillar skin boots & green velvet suits catch the sun
the butterfly aeroplanes land on a runway of roses
and the policemen cockroaches are standing by watching the fun
I hear three bluebells ringing in a steeple of heather & roses
I can hear them so clear as I glide by on dragonfly wings
and the gamekeeper fairy who lives in a mushroom nearby
plays a lute made of pinewood & oak and plucks cottonwool strings
The last of the sunrays are leaving the floor of the wildwood
as the phantom black beetle arrives on the wings of the bat
the grasshopper coachmen are harnessing mice to my carriage
and the four coachlight fireflies are put into place by the rat
Farewell to the appleseed pavements and moss covered roadways
the tall mushroom castles, fairytale children and all
I may never again chance to fly upon dragonfly wings
or wake where the morning sun shines on a pine needle wall
