You have magic in your finger tips,
Magic in your eye.
Magic in the arms that hold
And tell me not to cry.
A birth in poverty is luck supreme!
A death in poverty, a great blessing;
A life of poverty is rare a dream;
Achievements great, stark poverty can bring.
With her little hands, she scans each page
and as she looks.
She finds that she is mesmerized by the
magic from these books.
Black was always your favorite color...................
Like the inkwell that beckons the pen
Like the night spangled with a million stars
Like the sleek machine your ego rides
To the woods, to the woods is the wizard gone;
In his grotto the maiden sits alone.
She gazes up with a weary smile
At the rafter-hanging crocodile,
Let the heart
dwell in the fountain of love
where love may continuously flow
into the abyss of emptiness
There's magic when we hold hands
When you slip your fingers into mine
The memory always lingers
Where no birds breathe, bird-magic breathes
Bird-beauty, bird-spirit, bird-splendour,
And brings where no bird wings,
Wing-beats that woo me to wonder.
You know me so very well!
Know exactly where I dwell.
Slowly at first make a spell.
masterly do the paces as well.