He'll come and he'll say, "Lady,"
And I'll answer him, "My Lord?"
And it will be
Beneath this tree,
Twisted in its wood.

"Why leaves here?" he'll ask me,
And he'll touch a strand of hair,
Then he'll brush
The earth & moss
From the gown I wear.

I'll play for him some music,
And he'll choose from flute or harp,
A melody
Of stone and ley,
Playing in the dark.

"Why so long here, maiden?"
And he's answered with a breeze,
The moon will rise
Upon the wise
That dance between the trees.

He'll come and he'll say, "Lady,"
And I'll answer him, "My Love,"
Eternally
With longing need
Burns the faerie blood.

- Jen 05-14-91

Commentary:

As simplistic and rhymey as this poem is, it has played a significant, meaningful role in my life. "True poets" & connoisseurs of "real" poetry (who are typically self-appointed, arrogant assholes, anyway) might disdain such "greeting card" verse as trite or meaningless. But, as the mother of a 2-year-old, I am learning that there is much power in the simplistic rhyme & fairy tale. So, I feel less guilty, now, admitting that this poem captures a portrait of my own myth, my soul, my archetypes, my cultural consciousness and my deepest, most basic self.