BLACK MAGIC

8 1 0
                                        

She was a witch, broken
She'd make flames rise from ash
Among black and white, a colorful splash
If you saw the world through her eyes
Everything would seem like a prize
Not just silver, not just gold
All things young and old
I asked her what she believed in and what she feared
She said " Magic darling, Magic " and then she disappeared

Through poetry, I flyWhere stories live. Discover now