The old magic is here and there,
something miraculous out of thin air.
It is the time you cannot wear,
constantly leaving the cupboard bare.
In the moment before you tap your wand,
the starry-eyed audience publicly respond,
cultivating an image when they look to the great beyond.
The ties that bind us suddenly bond.
Nearly everything else is up in smoke,
though virtually everyone can see the joke.
It is part of a dress rehearsal behind the cloak.
It is a touch of genius at a stroke.
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Author:
Pres (
Offline) - Published: June 25th, 2026 03:19
- Comment from author about the poem: It is about a famous magician.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 0
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