You think it's magic that light will climb the skies, <br />that mind's inner math measures volumed world, <br />and branch bobs bird as bird with branch replies; <br />that no heart mends at midnight- whirl when hurled <br />spins and twirls toy top. We forever hope <br />charms bind us; but not magic to be knot; <br />Spells slip taut ties; then they scale slackened rope <br />reared in air- disappear- clear gone when sought. <br />But lives are greater magic. Death's forever. <br />We're last-act rabbits lost in stage-show hat. <br />Life's so short; so almost-nearly-never; <br />dead ever in etcetera, just like that. <br />Flick of fate's cuff when it's too late to check... <br />viably speaking, you're palmed from the deck<br /><br />Glenn Bagshaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poof/
