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Real Magic
As a child I thought the right words, conjured up real magic
Weaving magic wands, and fairy god mothers
Could turn flowers into white doves
The petals of roses into wings of butterflies
One handkerchief becomes many ties
Pulled out from the magician's sleeve, in rainbow colors
A large white rabbit appears out of a top hat
But those were only tricks made to entertain
Now in my second childhood
I am positive that real magic
Surrounds us, and lives within us
It comes in many forms and sources
From compassionate hugs and smiles – given and accepted
From healing hands, and understanding hearts
From blue skies and sunshine
From the cool rain, falling onto the dry earth
From a voice that sings a sweet melody
From truth, faith, and kindred spirits
From trust, loyalty and unsung heroes
From silent sacrifices and secret good deeds
We have no need for magic wands
Nor magicians or fairy godmothers
We live in our own magic every day
For this magic is the best kind
And we are the real magicians.
This poem speaks right to the
This poem speaks right to the heart. U have a blessed insight into the world.