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Apr 5
No more

Mothballs and cedar assault my nose

The dust mites and stale air dry my throat

A wardrobe that is just that

The lion roars no more

Neutered and robbed of his fire

The last time the words were read

In the darkness of this cell I fear the witch no more

Drunk at her cauldron

Slurred words conjure no magic

Snow driven mountains of pure white

Have dissolved into a gray haze

Footprints like bread crumbs dissolved

My desperate escape blocked

Solid wood between me and salvation

My world made infinitely smaller

-          When the gateway to Narnia can no longer be imagined, the magic dies

(Trystan Colin Behm- April, 2024)
Kurt Philip Behm
Written by
Kurt Philip Behm
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