The Gypsy Faerie in the Meadow

The Gypsy Faerie in the Meadow
a Villanelle for Lucy on her 17th birthday

How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?
Dreams and notions unrequited yet by futures that wait.
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.

And well you know the sweet attar of hope's most golden glow
like fruit just ripe in an orchard where blooms a prayer of fate.
How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?

Life spins like seeds falling from trees, caught in the wind's blow
that will carry them to ventures beyond the field and gate:
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.

May stones never play as pillows in your travels - you go
softly from each verdant field and meadow, a fair estate.
How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?

Gypsy faerie, a wisp of myth and a marvel, we know
you dance on moss and stones cool to the night, an honest trait.
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.

The sweet flowers weep for your attentions, for well they know
they are but shadow of your glamour, your grace they await.
How lays beauty born of gentle presence like soft echo?
Your subtle grace, your smiling face, dancing to music's flow.


William F. DeVault

Happy Birthday, Lucy. Your mother and I wish you the best of adventures in this life. Love, magic and joy all your days.