Pure Magic
poetry is ;
pulling a velveteen rabbit
out of a moth-eaten top hat
to the oohs and awws
of a wide-eyed children’s crowd
words flowing faster
than tongues wagging
from pursed dry lips
begging for a bit of water
poetry is;
flowering in the middle
of some nameless desert’s
shimmering heat precisely
at high noon
the sparkle of moisture
an illusion pure
without any slight
of human hand
poetry is pure magic
word imagery
without compare
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