Magic

With my eyes,

Irises shooting firebolts and

pupils widening

and contracting

in dark

and light

moments;

With my fingertips,

waving complex

stories,

loving strokes

of the brush

and the pen,

and against

the walls on my path

the doors behind me

and the windows I

climb through;

With my feet,

brushing through the undergrowth,

barefoot on the grass

and the concrete

and the glass,

and sometimes on

thin air;

With my lips

tasting the morning dew

and salt of teary lakes,

blowing kisses

into the sky

burnt up by the sun;

With my ears

hearing sighs

loud and low,

snatches of song,

the particular scent of

a smile;

With my heart,

loving and hating

and hurting,

wrenching

pulling

pushing

shaping

adoring

laughing

so loudly

I want

I need

I must do

Magic

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4 thoughts on “Magic

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