Green Fairies

They stood at the boarding docks
watching their son wave farewell,
as his aunt held each shoulder
on the boat called Kris Kringle.

My brother, Russ, was only six now
As he clung to his Huygen book,
(Not a new obsession)
He had named the blue fairy.
“Jess”, he would whisper, he was afraid
to say my name too loudly.

Our mother, Sydney A. Plathe, stood
Pale with eyes sunk in, waving
as our father, Bruce Plathe, stood stern,
But the little boy sensed
Nothing of what was to come.

As I stood beside him I saw
Our aunt quench her tears
As she smiled down at Russ;
then the two began to run
onto the child’s deck filled
with games, sugar, and fun.

I continued to linger on,
I watched as mother grabbed
At her stomach and dad
Tried to catch her before she
Plummeted into the water.

I watched as he dove in to save
what little was left of her life.
And he clung to her sopping on
The rotting planks, as she held
A finger to his quivering lip.

“Let Russ know that I too will fly
With the fairies. That Jess and I
Will flutter our wings as pixies
In the gardens and the forests
Never forgetting about him.

And may you forever know the man
You forever were to me, was more
Than I could have hoped for.
I love you Bruce,
my eternal groom.”

She then saw me and her finger dropped,
“Oh my fairy godmother is here
to retrieve me,” she now struggled
for breath as she reached out her
hand and together we flew away.