He thinks I'm magic
as if my voice
has power
to pull him from
the dark abyss.

I think it must be trickery,
sleight of hand,
magnetism,
trap doors even.

These hands
hold no enchantment.

This heart
knows no spell.

Still, I would beguile
the moon from the sky
if heaven's light
would guide his steps.

I would bewitch
the thorns that crowd
his path.

I would conjure
the smile
that melts my heart.