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The chemist-fay, on his tree stump table,
Had a vial of dew,
A beaker of cream, and a silver ladle.

A silver mold of a female fairy,
Against the stump,
Waited to be filled with dew and dairy.

He carefully blended a milky mixture
Of dewdrops and cream-
Stirring them until he had the right texture.

If a fleck of dirt fell into the blend
While he was churning,
He would pour it out and start again.

But, if a snow flake fell off a sapling
And into the tub
And then melted, he'd continue stirring.

At last, he achieved the palest mix
And poured it
Into the mold to condense a bit.

Once she condensed, he pulled her from the mold
And stood her up
To view her fully- she gleamed in the cold.

Then he lifted his scepter and oaken staff-
They glowed gold and green,
And after a sparkle, she began to laugh.

He finally created his own charmed dew,
After she fled,
When his tears dropped onto his shoe.

Learn more about this author, Paul Roe.
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