MusingsPoetry

The Magician

Through the rain and mist
In muddy clogs and wet anorak
I see the light of the village
Silence overcoming cold
Lights chocking darkness
Golden eagles and albatrosses
Flash and brush me down

Violins, kettledrums and balalaikas
All play in the air
A man with twelve voices singing
Tis the last dangerous magician!
I stare in panic
On glued toes and tarmaced brain
I lie waiting
For the last breathe

The magician
On a quad bike descends
In a more classic way
Stretching his arm
All flying creatures and musical instruments
Tag in his arm and vanish
A locket opens, light fills the air
Into the strange woods we appear

In love with the magician
On his invented wooden chair he sits
Perusing magical books on air
His smile flashing off my fears
Them, ran away from him but I, came the way
“Thy love is the key to my happiness,” I quote.

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