magic.
when I was a boy
there was magic
when I was a boy
we were wizards.
the pow'r in our fingers
to build and destroy
fearless hearts
able to experience pure joy.
no darkness no pain
no sorrow no hate
no problem too big
that spells couldn't fix.
our magic distinct
like personalities unique
but they belonged to us
it’s what made us tick.
as age caught up
and minds ‘matured’
we decided to leave
a new narrative we weaved.
now don’t get me wrong
it was not our intent
it crept up so slowly
eating at our bodies.
engrossed with our work
caught up in our lives
we forgot to take
a moment to dream.
before long
the people around me lost hope
they could not
find a way to cope.
“Look for the magic!” I said, “Grow up, magic was fake, it can’t help me” they replied.
I pleaded with them
I said you must try
but it was no use
they had closed their eyes.
the feeling of joy
the wonder of flight
to have no fear
to soar to great heights.
given away
disposed like a toy
the thing they say
separates man from boy.
hope, joy
fun, innocence
friends, trust
peace, self-confidence
imagination.
these are some names
of the magic we lost
but was it really
worth the cost?
my friend it’s ok
if you find you forget
it isn’t too late
to bring it all back.
so what is your spell
the stuff in your dreams
are you willing to find it
though hard it may seem?