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The Pixillated Pixie - John Bliven Morin 2011©Hawaii USA
My birthday party was such fun
With all my good friends there;
We laughed and sang and ate and drank
Without a frown or care.
When all had left I straightened up
And put each dish and pot
into the sink and went to bed;
Just one thing I forgot.
Upon my table, in my haste,
I left a jug of wine;
T’was nearly full and just uncorked,
imported from the Rhine.
I wish I hadn’t left it there;
I didn’t give a shrug;
I did not see disaster in
that tempting little jug.
I must explain the problem which
occurred when we had dined:
A wee one shares my house with me,
Who’s not of mortal kind.
To have a pixie such as mine,
My grandma used to say,
Meant my house had lots of luck,
And so I’ve let her stay.
In turn, my wee companion will,
with faerie magick spell,
clean my house all in a flash
and bring water from my well.
And so we’ve gotten on, we two,
As the last ten months have passed,
In the friendliest of manners,
That is, until the last.
I woke to a sudden crash that morn,
And laughter gaily sped
all from downstairs, as sleepily,
I got up from my bed.
I quickly dressed and started down
the stairs, when past me went
a dinner plate with moving wings;
I stopped in wonderment!
I shook my head, reminding me
that dinner plates don’t fly;
As I descended further down,
another passed me by.
The room I’d straightened up last night
was now a frightful mess,
with broken china everywhere,
and each with wings, no less!
The laughter now was close at hand,
along with hiccups, too,
All coming from the jug of wine,
now laying quite askew.
I picked it up and looked inside,
and all the wine was gone,
ingested by my pixie lass
before the break of dawn.
Before I could admonish her
for the damage all around,
The tiny thing began to snore,
So I put the wine jug down.
I wanted to clean up, of course,
but I was loath to touch
those broken plates with moving wings;
T’were just a bit too much.
So I went to my gardening;
all the long day toiled,
and not till eve’ning I returned,
sweating, hot and soiled.
The door swung open for me,
I was greeted by the scene;
The room was all in order,
Bright as before, and clean.
And as I passed the threshold,
I was comfortable and neat;
Clothes cleaned in an instant
Through a faerie magick feat.
And thus we live together
in my cottage on the Wye;
the strangest couple you will meet,
should you ever happen by.
You’re welcome to come in, my friends,
And with us chat and dine;
We’ve plenty of water from the well,
But we haven’t any wine!
John Bliven Morin 2011©Hawaii USA
