4 of 11

Enchanted is the garden,
At the bottom of the stream,
Where pixies hide and make their home,
Or so it would seem.

Mist hangs low amid the scene,
Of tiny little beings,
Playing with the dragonfly,
Enchanted, is what I'm seeing.

Bluebells ring their petal heads,
Pixies laugh and dance merrily,
Singing loudly all the time,
Enchanted is extraordinary.

Then from the trees,
Falls fairy dust, twinkling all the way,
Dropping round the pixies heads,
They squeal at the array.

Enchanted is the garden,
At the bottom of the stream,
No one even knows its there,
Except for me, I mean.

Learn more about this author, L D Redmond.
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