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I ask myself in the dead of night
What is this magic what is this might
Is it the curse of an old wizened maid
With a twisted wand from hazel made
Or is it a potion from some secret blend
To alter another or their life just to end
Then maybe it's a spell or dire incantation
That weaves a web with no protection
Perhaps at some level this may, with strain
Effect a change, but then again
It's not what I would call magic
Magic for me is the first ray of dawn
It's a clump of daffodils in a country lawn
A childs first breath or a stormy sea
These hold so much more magic for me
A spiders web hung with dew
The tiniest egg that to human grew
But far away more magical than this
Was the moment our lips first touched in a kiss
Then my heart beat so fast I was happy to die
And my soul sang a song as it learned how to fly
And thats what I would call magic
Shaun William Hayes
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