Faerie Inspirer

Brought on by a gorgeous picture of my lovely, photogenic friend.

There once was a faerie so stunning and fair

With smooth caramel skin, and long, dark, locked hair

She was clever in mind with a deep-rooted soul

A carnal shaped figured; true beauty in whole

She danced in the wind, with her wings at her side

Enchanting onlookers who fell mesmerized

As she flew through the sky, to her home on the moon

Her departure caused many admirers to swoon

They composed complex tunes, and wrote tales of her splendor

And drew detailed depictions, desperate to remember

The faerie’s return saw loud cheers and great art

Each piece revealing a piece of their hearts

They begged her to dance for their eyes once again

Gleefully she obliged as a joyous whirlwind

The inspired drew pens to create their new treasures

Her immeasurable grace brought the artists great pleasures

Soon, after days of this passionate exchange

Her audience requested what she thought quite strange

They explained desires of more spirit to capture

The more they gained from her, the more their art could enrapture

She did not much mind, she thought herself kind

As she unstrapped her feathers, and loosened leaf vines

She was fine with exposing her true self to nature

Creators grew drunk off her exotic flavors

Danger came as one painter locked her in a cage

His bedroom would be her new home and new stage

Before an easel she would dance on command

But this new life of enslavement was too harsh to withstand

She demanded her freedom, it's what kept her alive

But the painter was blinded by an artistic drive

Deprived of the wind in her hair or her wings

The faerie grew ill, and died late that Spring

The painter, ashamed, carved the girl a tall statue

So each artist could mourn their exploited muse

Her body was laid in a bed made of leaves

Surrounded by art that her beauty conceived

The grieving artists all paid their respects

And spent most of their lives just trying to forget

They composed ghastly notes and wrote poems of despair

This macabre prone art quickly spread in the air

This new wind combed her hair, and rustled her wings

Blew life in her lungs, which she then used to sing

Her song could be heard in the dreams of the artists

Vibrating through them and the tools they worked hard with

Though she never dared dance where the humans could see

Her spirit was felt in the winds blowing free

So the beautiful faerie could live on through their art

As she danced on the moon, she still danced for their hearts