Once upon a time

I believed in magic

I could almost smell it

Almost taste it

It was close

But never close enough to touch

Always at arms length

always round the corner

And nothing on this earth came close

to the magic that I knew

Was lurking

Somewhere out there

Somewhere just ahead

But not quite there


Then the magic seemed to die

In the every day living

In the living,

In the breathing,

In the sadness and the truth

Blocked out by the harshness

Of adulthood and fact

Suffocated slowly by the years


But lately it’s come creeping back

Hand of intrigue held out to me

Fingers of mystery

Curling round the corners

Once again

And it whispers of a truth

More real than what I see

More audible than anything I hear

And the smell of promise is once again

Filling the air

It says ‘come to me, my child

I am all you look for

I am all you yearn for,

All you need

Though you may not touch me

Or catch me

Or contain me

My arms are stretched wide open

They are there.’

And what is life

Without some magic?

What is living

Without intrigue?

What is real, what is true

if there isn’t something


than you?


2 Comments Add yours

  1. What beautiful honest and moving poetry Vic. I like your style of writing very much. The blog looks great too. Good on you! Keep it up:)


    1. underyourwings says:

      Thanks Lisa ….I need to learn a lot more about this foreign world of blogging 😉


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