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Over The Under Tree

Over The Under Tree

Over The Under Tree

Contrary to popular belief, there’s a story over there, over the Under Tree. One pixie worth knowing sat and swung on a swing. Swinging and swaying and singing her song. Telling the tale of this Her.

“They found the doorway to Daffodil Hill!”, she exclaimed. I looked at her and wondered. Because I knew what it was like. I went on my way and found the Knowing. I ran with the Tigers, Neon or Not, and I suppose I always knew. It would come to this, and down to her. Down to the curls that tumbled over her eyes. Kissing her was like catching a crashing wave in your hands. Being that close overwhelmed you because you knew it was something different. There’s still magic in the world. It’s all around us. You can find it in the smell of your favorite person. You can find it in the twinkle and sparkle in those eyes, the ones you cannot wait to see. You’ll find strange and exotic lands, a map to the meaning of life, the compass to her heart…tracing your finger across her skin. There’s something magical in being that close, knowing that one kiss is all it takes. To know her, to burn with her, the spirit in her soul, sending you sky-high. One simple story, one single journey. Unite the factions and end this spiritual war. 

I knew the taste of love and smell of hope, it rose like a flame; engulf me here and take me home. 

This pixie was true; right and complete and persistent. 

She swung and she spun and she sang…tra la la…it was like the war and the Tigers and Crescent Knights were just a game. And maybe they were. 

Rocketing away, I could always take note…the Queen has arisen. She found me there. Though I sat lonely and hoping and reeling…she held fast. While she knew and she grew and rose to power, she fell in love with me. The Great Dragons would know, she’d end the war, and bring about peace. Peace and harmony, and lay me to rest. Rest my weary head. Close my heavy eyes. One time. Two times.

Some day, One Day Times. Still ahead…

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They could have found the door. And maybe that pixie swung and she sang…

“The Queen has come home. Treat her well. Make her smile, take her, she fell. For you, for you, a beacon of hope. Hold her close, be her king…silence the Division Bell.”

When I awoke I was still in that tree. Forever and free, water spree and sorted around me. I turned and walked on my way, to this her…the one with my heart, on the yellow bench.

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