In the house, where Alice lived, everyone learned, to forgive.
For, Fairy Alice knew, 't'was true, forgiving others frees you, too!
So, whispering, she'd always go, to sleeping ears, to message, sow.
And, into dreams, the truth was borne, that led, to more forgiving morns.
Perfection is a myth, you see, for no-one's perfect, as can be.
And asking pardon, for transgressions, leads, to the sweetest, of soul's lessons.
Soon, hearts were light, mistakes, forgiven; souls, no more, with cold anger, riven.
And Alice smiled, as peace descended, upon that home, with each fence, mended.
Wee Alice beamed, (peace-maker, she, as blessed, as a sweet Fae could be), to see her work come, to fruition, as she succeeded, in her mission.
Lovely art, by Charlotte Bird
So, whispering, she'd always go, to sleeping ears, to message, sow.
And, into dreams, the truth was borne, that led, to more forgiving morns.
Perfection is a myth, you see, for no-one's perfect, as can be.
And asking pardon, for transgressions, leads, to the sweetest, of soul's lessons.
Soon, hearts were light, mistakes, forgiven; souls, no more, with cold anger, riven.
And Alice smiled, as peace descended, upon that home, with each fence, mended.
Wee Alice beamed, (peace-maker, she, as blessed, as a sweet Fae could be), to see her work come, to fruition, as she succeeded, in her mission.
Lovely art, by Charlotte Bird
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