The Opal Dream Cave

In an opal dream cave I found a fairy:

Her wings were frailer than flower petals,

Frailer far than snowflakes.

She was not frightened, but poised on my finger,

Then delicately walked into my hand.

I shut the two palms of my hands

And held her prisoner.

I carried her out of the opal cave,

Then opened my hands.

First she became thistledown,

Then a mote in a sunbeam,

Then—nothing at all.

Empty now is my opal dream cave.