Magic Poem by Martin Ward
Magic
Magic
Watch
the hands
gyrate
in a
figure
of eight.
Trying
to keep
up
with the
swirl;
the whirling
of cups.
Underneath
one
of the
three
is a
coin:
I saw
him put
it under,
but which
of the
three?
Him
or
me.
Duelling
hands;
boggling
eyes.
He
lifts
the cups
and there
is none.
Gone.
Magic.
Saturday, February 3, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: magic
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12/5/2025 6:34:23 PM # 1.0.0
This poem has been included in the Bournemouth Winter exhibition of Harry Potter and Magic Poetry. Bournemouth Library Wall.