I am a weaver of the written word, but not one to speak it well. I am a thinker, a ponderer, a star gazer and a dreamer. I am a hopeless romantic. I am a flowering tree, in the springtime of life and not quite ready to produce my fruits yet.
I am female, with strength in my youth and wisdom for my years. I am filled with Faerie magic. When the moon is full I can feel my soul sing. I stretch my Elven wings and glide silently through the night sky. I skim the lake with my fngertips and breathe in the starlight. My grey eyes glow bright. I lie under the trees, quietly thanking the God and Goddess for all They have granted me.
And then I rest, in sweet slumber.
