Fairies

The butterflies above her head,
remind her of fairies.
She prays every night for wings.
I have not the heart to tell her
they're not real.

I see her beautiful eyes,
begging for an answer. 
I catch myself,
before a white lie escapes.
It will only confuse her.

She is five,
an impressionable age.
I want to protect her,
from disappointments,
the wonderful fantasies.

She falls asleep,
I hear her silent breaths,
praying for the fairies to come.
Even in dreams,
she wishes to fly away.

She is my family,
and I treasure her.
If I could magically grant her wishes,
she would be taking flight.
For now, I'll dream with her.

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