Risen from the ashes
The smoke is its home
The flickering flames shield it
So it is unknown
The bird of red
The bird of fire
A Phoenix
No... they don't exist
They are mythological
They are a false truth
For no bird can be reborn
Yet something drops
A feather of magnificent plumage
I see the flash of an eye
It can't be
Magic a whisper carries
Glance from one side to the other
No sound apart from the crackle of flames
I gulp
Do phoenixes exist?
Slowly I turn and back away
A soft caw is heard
Echoing in the room
A sudden chuckle
Magic is repeated softly
I arch on eyebrow
Hallucination
A feather slowly drops down
Vibrant red, with gold surrounding it
I pick it up, fingers trembling
A swish of wind passes through me
Glancing up, I see a bird
With feathers like flames
Soaring into the fire
It turns, and a dark black eye meets mine
Magic it croaks.
Magic is how we exist
Magic is how we are reborn
The flames are my home
I am a phoenix
A bird of fire
Keep your faith in me
And keep an open mind
Then it is gone
Consumed by the flames
I pick the feather up, gulping
That... was a phoenix
It was real- not unknown
I look down at the feather
Warm to the touch
Suddenly I smile.
"Magic," I say, pocketing the feather.
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My poems
PoetryThese are poems I write whenever I am feeling emotional or bored. Hope you like it :-)