The Illusionist Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

He is a magician of a kind.
He can deceive your mind.
Turning fiction into reality.
Hiding his cloaked duality.

You’re sure that there is more…
When you add up the score.
There is something missing…
A few facts that he is dismissing.

He is calculating and shrewd…
Questioning him would be rude.
Doubt would invoke a harsh glare.
The obvious vanishes into thin air.

When you’re in a familiar setting.
You feel like you are forgetting.
The furniture seems to be out of place.
Your friends can’t look you in the face.

Then one day the secret was revealed.
Trembling lips were no longer sealed.
The pain of deception was now certain.
The illusionist lifted the cheating curtain.


(6/19/07)