​a fairy tale

Once I was watching the sun go down
Shining with dim red light.
All subjects and colours seemed to drown
Fading back in my sight.

Abruptly a blast of wind came on
And a small wicked pixie appeared.
She had a cloak made of sheer lawn
And a voice that sounded weird.

"Do you like the view of the setting sun?" –
She asked with a gloating smile.
I couldn't deny that it was fun
And I couldn't expect the wile.

"I've got a gift for you" – she said
And I was pleased and confused.
She waved with a wand above her head
And dispersed looking very amused.

Since then the sun doesn't move at all
Hanging there at the same dumb point.
People started to hate that tumid ball
And everyone is out of joint.

Noone knows if the pixie changes her mind
And releases us from the bane,
But the dim red light makes the people blind
And the constant view makes them insane.

Yet do not tell me it's all my fault,
That it's me who's caused the troubles!
I was just dreaming too much and too bold
And I still love doting on bubbles.