They called me the Changeling babe,
Not quite a girl, not quite right.
Through needle eyes I saw other realms
and went wild dancing round finger trees.
I jumped the Naiad,
on a green bowing branch,
and sang to the fair behind the fronds.
Nay boy could beat me at their games,
I would lick my finger at them and shriek,
stride back to the valleys with the moon ever hanging.
When my mind broke, the little folk caught it,
and took me to their lands all silver and gold.
Temples high, and rich, warm flowers,
scents span slowly as we slept
and by gleaming streams,
I felt content.
But cruel hands pulled me back and
people said, that the little folk ne’er came near me.
Yet talents I had,
in my working hands,
to soothe a brow and knit a wound,
and torn away, I saw all plains,
took words from those passed to those left behind.
The eyes of men disliked my arts,
and thought to starve me, dark and jailed.
They waited from night till day and further,
But long had I gone from worldly food.
The folk brought me bounty
and thus did I live,
till my cage was opened and I walked free.
On did I walk, one foot either side,
I followed the days to the end of my path.