MUM

 

Sadly true, as youth is through, a fairy does get old,

no glitter left to glimmer, she’s nothing to behold.

Greying hair, her wings threadbare, her wand has fallen quiet,

fairy dust has turned to rust as Goblins start to riot.

But I know, so all aglow, for diamonds they are rare,

I still find her loving mind and twinkling eyes still there.