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No Such Magic
My tendency to slip into the dark-
a matter you have now begun to press.
In realms of time and pain, I ache no less;
you undervalue still, its lasting mark.
So see me stand before you, bare and stark;
I pray you’re not dismayed when I confess
the ticking clock alone cannot repress-
this sorrow hovers on a timeless arc.
I do not wish to burden or deceive;
if I could craft a spell, I’d cast it quick.
I’d wield a wand if it might do the trick,
but endless is this ache, I do believe.
To waste a wish on turning time is tragic,
for I have yet to come across this magic.
Copyright ©
Jessica Wheeler
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