There was once a little girl who believed that fairies lived in the garden of her house. So she wrote them sweet little notes asking about their wands and their wings and lots of other fairy things. And the fairies wrote back, in lovely rhymes like these:
Thank you for the lovely flower, which we will place inside our bower.
We each have a special wand of which we are rather fond.
Unbeknownst to the little girl, the Chief Fairy Correspondent became peri-menopausal and sometimes forgot to write back. So the little girl built a shrine in her bedroom, with books:
And little fairy beds:
Some even had sleeping bags and pillows:
So now, whenever the Chief Correspondent flits by the little girl’s bedroom, she sees those
nagging gentle reminders and the rhymes magically flow:
Dammit I forgot again. Where’s the paper and my pen?
When will this correspondence end? It’s driving me around the bend.