Poppy's wings have been clipped and her Faerie Dust scattered in the wind, and now she stands before you, just another mere mortal.
I was an abused child, and that seem to set the course for the rest of my life, now I have withdrawn into my own fantasy land, as far as society and family will allow, but deep inside me lives the conviction, that there is magic in this world, I have just yet to find it.I see everyday magic and it gladdens my sorry soul, the magic of the oceans and it's changing moods, the magic in the trees, I see one tree everyday, an ancient Morton Bay Fig, gigantic and proud, and I believe that if God does exsist, then that tree is his throne. It is the hidden magic that I seek, the magic of faeries, wishes, rainbows and dreams, if I ever loose hope of finding these magical things, then I will become nought but an empty shell, to feel and be no more. When I am sad, angry or lonely I write a poem, I wish I could know love and happiness, so that I may write of these things instead. And that in a nutshell is me, Poppy.