Free Cee the M Word

THE “M” WORD Oh miss of bliss I must confess that I find myself in magic with you The kind of magic a flute makes when it sings a note that brings you back home To where simplicity was the sanctity of sublimation A naturally formed and most instinctual creation That kindred kind of magic The kind of magic an infant summons with his first solo step, his first word, and his very first fascination The kind of magic in the wings of a fledgling sparrow as they lift him unto the place whereupon his mother birthed him to be Amid the clouds and midst the majesty of flight The kind of magic in joy that enjoins itself with a neon fueled force on a fourth of July sparkling night Stars and darkness wrenched from the heart of twilight The kind of magic that is brilliantly bright, and blatantly beautiful delight You are all these kinds of magic and more And miss of bliss ‘tis thee I do adore The kind of bliss you came to bless And for that reason I really must confess I find myself hopelessly and wholly in magic with you I really do! © 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~