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Magic is what I see

Magic is real it’s inside of me. 

I close my eyes and it’s what i see. 

Books float to me when I want them and open before me. 

Magic is a escape from a place I don’t want to be. 

I see doors swing ajar as I walk towards them or slam close when I’m angry as if it was wind.

Is it my imagination that take me to this wonderland destination? 

Or is that I come from a long line of seekers and seers? 

My grandma once told me If I believe it could be true. 

Magic keeps me happy instead of being blue. 

Oh yes indeed magic is serene to me

And when I need a little clue I see the magic when I look at you.