In tall grass and fields of green,
fairies whisper a child's dream.
In the night full of lunar light a child eagerly seeks,
the mystical beings and magical spells,
of fairy dust, oh what tales to tell.
In the child's mind full of hopes and dreams,
the reality of such things will never go unseen.
But someday, as time takes its toll,
the child grows and the soul gets old.
No longer does he see, the magic of his dreams,
for Father Time has replaced them with realities,
and so it seems,
his imagination no longer races,
his soul no longer embraces,
the fairy whispers of a child's dream.


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, ha. Hopefully you know what I mean. Anyway....my children are no longer preschoolers but I teach preschoolers and those stories and illustrations are wonderful.
