Small mercies

I haven’t been myself today, nor any other mortal
I stepped into a timeless age via a pixie portal
Freely, I renounced my name and all my worldly goods
To lay my head on emerald moss, deep in the bluebell woods
A choir of songbirds high above performed a symphony
as stained glass sunlight filtered through the verdant canopy

The hours passed in minutes but the trade was time well spent
For man spends endless hours not achieving such content
At last, a kiss of blossom fall stirred me from my repose
But soon I shall return again as every pixie knows
And walking home, I left a trail of pollen pixie dust
To show the way for folk who know, and in the pixies trust.

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