The duchess in apricot silk
walks the mossy pathway by the brook
in search of the elf who creates love spells.
Her senses vibrate with the scent of bluebells,
gorse, violets and wild mint.
She notices the flash of kingfisher,
skitter of minnows.
The taste of marzipan erupts on her tongue
when she sees her love riding towards her.
The wind in the ash trees whispers warnings
about sin, the devil and bad luck
following those who consort with elves and goblins
and take the primrose path to fairyland.
In the cut and paste world beyond
where chatrooms and voicemail rule
and childhood is endangered
this may become a cautionary tale.