My mother says they aren't there.
But I know they are.
They surround you and me everywhere.
They play the wind like a guitar.

See their small dark shadows lurking behind
trees.
Hear their pleasant laughter ring throughout the
hills.
Smell the cookie like aroma they give off in the
warm breeze.
Feel the bliss and glee that the People of the
Wind wills.

I shout and dance with them in the woods.
All day in the inviting and joyous sun.
We imagine princesses and knighthoods.
At dusk I fell thanking them for that day's fun.

I tell Mother about my friends.
She chuckles and declares it's not true.
And off to bed me she sends.
I guess her imagination, she's outgrew.