Where There Is Magic


On a quaint dusk, as the city slowed the pace,

A child under the street lamp,

Wished to be an ace,

Hopped he onto the tram,

An hour’s journey away from home,

Imagined he about the ornate dome,

The Basilica, Colosseum in Rome.

It was a starry night,

Surrounded by a whiff of cool breeze,

His mind was pleased,

Fancy took the flight,

To the land of Michelangelo, Raphael,

The filigree of baroque masterpieces,

The beauty of art was his citadel,

Ecstasy of art gave him magical kisses.

The day began with toil and grind,

Pealing away his inner rind,

As the dusk fell, the magic began,

He read all he could about the beautiful lands,

His mind sparkled with ornate magic,

He changed his attire each day like a new trick,

Surprised were his peers and amigos,

Where did the poor child’s bad taste go?

He dreamed a dream every day,

To create beauty while making the hay,

To the world this was his giveaway.

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