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The Silver Fairy
The Silver Fairy, under flowers
Stands; holds apples, hidden powers.
Adam his rib, Eve the fruit.
Gone, rejected bible loot,
The Preachers, selling hours
The Silver Fairy, in her bower
Sits; mild and docile, hidden flowers.
Waiting till there’s no-one, mute.
Her wings of silver, still.
The Silver Fairy, apples sour
Lies; beating breast in sorrow,
Moving towards her freedom fluted,
Noted for her silvered beauty.
All asleep, reprised, astute.
Her wings of silver, still.
poem
by
Alice Anne Gordon
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