streets of fantasy

there is a place i know
where unicorns and sylvan maids walk upon paths
laid down by mythic beauties
where the flora sing and fauna dance to a tune sung
by the glorious moon in her heavenly palace.

there is a place i hide within all of this
there my skin is striped, my fingers tipped with deadly claws
and within a cave only my eyes are seen.

it is on these streets of fantasy that words pass by like swimming fish
and you and i can grab them with nets
or our bare hands, piecing them together as we would a mosaic
rearranging them before they fly away to become something else entirely

in this place there is a tree whose branches shade my hiding place
faeries sing and play amongst its branches
and beneath, in the hard stone, a troll dwells, dark and glooming
but still a part of this place of fantasy
this place of dreams where life still lives