Foinse na Brionglóid

Deep in the night while all the world sleeps, into our minds she silently creeps. A mystical fairy with unruly orange hair, flowing down her back in a river so fair. She jumps, skips and slides in the darkest part of night, telling us stories some dark and some bright. She is quite a sight, this tiny little creature. Mystery and magic enchant her every feature. She wears a cracked leather satchel slung across her shoulder, it is the carrier of her stories, a most sacred holder. Upon her feet she wears a pair of worn leather boots that leave a path of glitter, sparks, and flitter when she sneaks, slides, and scoots. On our pillows she perches and plays with all her might, A story carrying song on her bagpipes, with all her might. One might wake up and try to catch her in the act, but she cannot be found, that is a fact. You might look on your pillow with hopes of finding her there, But there will be nothing but the distant sound of a lone bagpipe, and fading sparks in the air.