The starry ceiling sparkles,
mirrored by the evening dew,
fresh, misty apparitions
live beneath the midnight blue.
The mossy floor, the carpet,
underlays the meeting room,
where all the woodland creatures
come to meet the bride and groom.
We sit amonst the hidden,
holding secrets of our own,
shining bare, spotlighted
by the soft and pale moonglow.
The woodland king beckons us come,
welcomed before his throne.
Shakespeare's servants dance a waltz
in golden gowns, hand-sewn.
Earthen creatures take our hands,
and place in mine a key,
they escort us to an oaken house,
a little sanctuary.
Sweet roses flood the pathways,
ivy creeps down from the gables.
The scent of honey fills the air,
berries greet us at the table.
My tired eyes begin to close
once we are all alone;
I fall asleep, safe in your arms,
secure in our new home.