To end the day...

A Short Fantasy

As I run and run my feet barely touch the ground. I'm not running away, nor am I running to. I run for the shear joy of running. The grass is wet and droplets cling to my bare feet, but it is not cold. I weave among the trees...and nymphs...and dryads. The brilliant, autumn afternoon sun has awakened them and they now dance and sing, sharing in my laughter of life. I reach the heart of the woods and skip across the brook, not minding the splashes. My feet dance to the sound of the water as I spin and spin. I turn my face to the sun. The treetops twirl before me. I smile and close my eyes. I spread my arms wide, drinking in every drop of happiness.

My light yellow dress flares as I spin, rippling in the gentle breeze. Wild and flying, my hair flows free of all restraints. Russet leaves are scattered beneath my feet. They add their music to that of the water...and the wind ...and the trees...and the birds, creating an orchestra of joy. They play and play as I fall to the grass, not from dizziness or weariness, but from happiness. I focus on the melody of the song, being carried by the wood faeries. It is so soft that one can hardly here it, but it is there and it is beautiful. “Simply smile forever after, for joy is joy, and love is laughter,” they sing. I lie there, content just to listen. The melody plays on and on, changing meaning and tune, but always coming back to the same jubilant chorus. All too soon the sun begins it's decent, betraying the time. I could lie here forever, but I must go. Must leave my little haven of joy. As I walk, with whispered farewells, the dryads fly about, escorting me homeward. No. Worldward, for this is my true home.

There is a sadness in the song now, but I am still happy. I know I will be back soon. There is no reason to be sad where joy can fill it's place. Tears are not forbidden, but tears over trifles are, indeed, senseless. I much prefer to smile. It is so much easier. The dryads fall back as I stand at the edge of the woods. I raise my hand in a quick wave and laugh at their sad faces. Turning, I pass a single purple violet, the last of the season. From within flutters a tiny butterfly of a vibrant orange and green. It follows me as I exit my realm of peace and stays with me as I walk, it's wings fluttering a harmony, “And love is laughter.”

"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment." — Sarah Dessen
(source from - images via justbesplendid)