Suspended in the eye of a dandelion seed lied Katerina, the fairy ballerina,
with hummingbird feathers for her tiny leotard and tutu, smelling like mead. 
Her hair hung in black ropes, with petals here and there, never gleaming.
Thoughts of her insignificance had frozen her lips into a perpetual frown.
Her irises, never beaming, reflected no grand or small light as she moped.
The pixies whispered that she broke her ankle one evening upon the stage.
The goblins gossiped about her unrequited love for her deaf dance partner.
And humans, never once spying the dismal winged being in their blindness, 
continued discussing such frivolities, trivialities, and their glowing pettiness.